


The Stockholm Syndrome

by carolroi (CarolROI)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 16:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 39,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2355047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolROI/pseuds/carolroi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if, in Sentinel, Too, Alex Barnes couldn't kill Blair at the fountain?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tugging his gloves on, he crouched in the bushes, patiently waiting for the signal. He quickly ran through his mental checklist, assuring himself he had all the items he would need to complete his mission. His blue eyes took in every detail of his surroundings, making sure nothing had changed in the ten minutes he had been waiting. He heard a door to the darkened building open, and a figure stepped outside. A match flared in the post midnight blackness, briefly illuminating the guard's face. Once the match sputtered out, only the faint red glow from the end of his cigarette betrayed his presence.

Damn. The microphone in his ear came to life. "Okay, babe, taking control of security cams in three, two, one. We have control."

"Drea, I've got problems," he answered. "Asshole's taking a smoke break at my entrance. Standing down until further notice."

"Roger that."

There was silence between the partners for five long minutes. Finally the guard flipped his butt into the night and re-entered the museum. "Give me a couple to make sure he's gone, then tell me when." He counted the seconds down silently.

"All clear, go for it, babe." 

He ran across the lawn in a low crouch, his dark clothing easily blending with the shadows as he made it to the building's wall. His pick and sensitive touch made quick work of the lock on the alarm cover. Pulling a couple of alligator leads from his belt pouch, he jumped the proper connections, then slid the cover closed. "Alarm's bypassed. Heading in."

"Enter on my command. Setting off gas canisters now."

He slipped around the side of the museum and into the doorway, picking the lock as he waited for the go ahead. His partner's confident voice came through his earpiece again. "Guards are down. Think you can make it in under ten?" she teased.

"I'm not trying to beat your record," he answered back, slipping a small gas mask over his nose and mouth. "Entering perimeter." Cracking the door open, he eased inside. He took a few seconds to reacquaint himself with the familiar layout of the building, then headed directly for the room he wanted, the display of Chinitez relics. 

Entering the darkened room, he began to cross to the dimly lit display case. So intent was he on the prize, a priceless gold and turquoise ceremonial mask, that he never noticed the body on the floor. Snagging his toe on the unconscious man's leg, he pitched over the body onto his hands and knees. "Shit!"

"Problem?"

"Don't know, I just tripped over something--somebody--I have a bad feeling about this." He leaned over the man, his penlight illuminating his face. Recognition was a fist in the gut. "Oh, damn it... " he breathed.

Drea's voice was anxious. "What is it, babe?"

"Jim, oh my god, it's Jim--"

"Get a hold of yourself. We knew this was a possibility; let it go, complete the mission." 

Drawing in a shuddering breath, he said, "The mission, yeah, the mission." He had started to rise when a choking sound from the man on the floor stopped him. Bending down again, he could hear the man's labored breathing. "Oh, shit, shit! Drea! He's having a reaction to the gas; he can't breathe! I've got to-- " God, what should he do, what could he do?

The voice in his ear was gentle, yet commanding. "Abort, babe, abort. Can you get him outside?"

Grabbing the tall man by the ankles, he started to drag him toward the exit he'd come in. "Yeah, yeah, heading for the exit now."

"I'm coming to get you."

"No, no, Drea, stay put, I'll let you know if I need you." Pushing the door open with his back, he hauled the cop out onto the sidewalk. "Come on, man, don't do this to me. Breathe, damn you!"

His curses were rewarded by a cough from the other man, who then moaned, and tried to sit up. "Take it easy, Jim, take some slow deep breaths for me. In for three, and out for three."

* * *

Jim Ellison's head was pounding, his lungs were on fire, his throat raw, and for not the first time in a year, he was imagining his guide's voice. Forcing his eyes open, he found himself staring into a familiar face, bearded now, the hair hidden under a dark cap, and the face blackened, but the eyes were the ones he saw in his dreams. "Blair?" This couldn't be happening.

The younger man rocked back on his heels, muscles tensing, ready for flight. "Gotta go, man." He started to rise, and the sentinel grabbed his arm. Panicking, Blair tried to pull away.

"Let him go, Detective." 

Jim knew that voice, heard it every time he closed his eyes; she was his only nightmare. In one swift move, he pulled his gun and fired in the direction of her voice.

"Nooooo!" his guide's scream ripped through his skull, as a fist slammed into his face. Everything went black.

* * *

Shaking off the cop's now limp grasp, Blair sprinted across the grass, dropping to his knees beside the crumpled form of his partner. "Drea, honey, can you hear me?" Drea, god, Drea, why couldn't you stay in the truck?

"Chest hurts... babe... help me... " Her frightened blue eyes looked up at him. "It's bad, Blair, it's bad.-- oh!" Gasping, she clutched at her swollen abdomen. "No, no, not now-- "

Holding on to his love with one hand, Blair yanked out his cell phone, pressed 9-1-1 and send. "Operator, I need an ambulance at the back of Rainier University Museum of Anthropology. I have a pregnant woman down with a gunshot wound to the chest." Tucking the phone between his head and shoulder he put both hands over the heavily bleeding wound. "Hurry, please, hurry."

 

**Rainier Campus, Hargrove Hall, One year ago**

Blair sat at his desk waiting. He would come, Blair knew he would. What they had was too important for Jim not to get past the pain Blair had caused him. Not telling Jim about Alex right away had been wrong, he knew now. But how was he to know she was a criminal? He'd only been trying to help her. He looked up as his office door opened. "Alex."

She stood there for a moment, a gun in her hand, her expression unreadable. Finally she pointed it at him, and his hands automatically came up in a show of compliance. "If it hadn't been for you, I never would have understood what I really am. I owe you that." She paused, then continued, "You wanna know how I really got the sentinel senses? Solitary confinement in prison. Thought I was going crazy. It wasn't until I met you, I realized what I'd become." Her voice was sad, almost resigned.

"And look how you used this gift. What a waste... " he breathed, not knowing what else to say, how to sway her from whatever decision she'd made.

A look of determination crossed her face, but her voice was filled with soft regret. "This is the one thing I really didn't want to do, but I can't leave you alive." Pulling back the slide on the gun, she chambered a cartridge. "Come on, Blair, get up."

He rose to his feet shakily, his heart in his throat making it difficult to breathe. "Alex--" he began as he walked past her into the hallway.

"Just shut up, okay?" She marched him down the corridor, gun shoved tight against his back. Up the stairs and out of the building they went, across the drive to the fountain. 

The anthropologist came to a halt, his knees against the low wall surrounding the pool, his back to her. For a long moment, he waited, feeling her presence behind him, yet she made no move to kill him. "Oh, come on, Alex, if you're gonna shoot me, shoot me already!"

Her hand darted up to grasp the back of his neck, shoving him forward, into the water. He struggled as his face went under, but her grip was too strong, and he couldn't break free. Just as Blair felt like his lungs were going to explode, he was yanked out of the water by his hair. Coughing and gagging, he leaned against the low stone bench for support, feeling the hold on his head turn into a half caress. When he finally looked to the side, he found Alex kneeling next to him, her eyes wet with tears and full of pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have, I don't know what I was thinking." She stood, gesturing with the ever-present gun. "Get up, Blair."

He was so damn tired of all this being jerked back and forth between one sentinel and the other. "Please, Alex, please, just kill me, okay? I can't take much more of this shit."

Shaking her head, she grabbed him under the arm and lifted him off the ground. "Come on, Blair, we have to get out of here!" Hauling him across the parking lot to her car, she shoved him in the passenger side and forced him to slide across the seat until he was behind the wheel. Tossing the keys at him, she commanded, "Drive!"

He shook his head, droplets of water pelting them both. "Alex, it's over. Give yourself up, give back the nerve gas."

"I can't! Damn you, just drive!" She poked him with the gun, and he reluctantly stuck the keys in the ignition, and started the engine. Putting the car into drive, he pulled out of the parking lot just as the first rays of dawn were beginning to peek over the horizon.

* * *

The '69 blue and white Ford pickup slid to a halt in front of Hargrove Hall, several police cars right behind it. Jim leapt out of the truck and was dashing up the steps to the building, when something poked at his subconscious. Turn around, it said, and he followed the order, but saw only a peaceful fountain bubbling away merrily, the rising sun glittering on its surface. Shrugging off the feeling of déjà vu, he entered the building followed by most of Major Crimes. Clattering down the stairs to his partner's office, he called out, "Sandburg!" There was no answer.

Flinging the door to the office open, he found nothing out of the ordinary. No signs of a struggle, no papers out of place, the chair pushed back from the desk slightly, as if the anthropologist had just gotten up. Yet there was something, not something he could see or hear but-- Closing his eyes, he inhaled slowly, separating the individual scents in the room. Dust, mold, books, wood, leather, stale coffee, Blair, fear. His eyes snapped open and he gasped. Whose fear? Blair's, his mind immediately answered. Fear of what? He concentrated again, finding underneath the layers of everyday living the musky odor he'd come to associate with Alex, and the familiar mixture of gun oil and sulfur. 

The vision hit him like the head rush one got when standing up too quickly. Alex, in the office, pointing a gun at his partner shifted violently to Blair's terrified expression as his head was held under water. Shaking off the images, Ellison pushed past his captain and Connor and raced up the stairs. Plunging through the door, he stood once again in the sunshine of what promised to be a beautiful day in Cascade. 

Slowly he crossed the driveway to the fountain, looking for a sign, a clue, anything that might prove or disprove his vision. Reaching the edge of the fountain, Jim looked down into the shallow water. Amid the jumble of coins and leafy debris, a silver ring winked at him. Scooping it out with his fingers, he examined it, immediately recognizing it as one of Blair's earrings. He had been here; he had been in the water. But where was he now? And was he still alive?

* * *

"Where to?" Blair asked, as he pulled out into the suburbs surrounding Rainier's campus.

Alex stared at him for a moment, then said, "You're wet."

"Um, yeah, from the little impromptu swim I took in the fountain, remember?"

She rubbed her brow. Her head hurt. "Where's your stuff?"

"My what?"

"Your stuff. You said your roommate kicked you out and you were staying at a hotel. What hotel?" At his blank expression she leaned over him, checking his pockets.

"Hey, whoa, ow! I'm trying to drive, Alex!"

She sat back up, her efforts rewarded with one hotel key and a pocketknife. She tossed the knife up in the air and caught it. "Naughty, naughty. You were holding out on me. But I'll over look it this time." Dangling the key in front of his nose, she said, "Drive. Here."

Fifteen minutes later, Blair parked outside room 17 at the Friendship Inn. Alex gazed up at the sign thoughtfully. "Were you hoping it would bring you luck?" she finally asked softly. His grip on the steering wheel tightened enough to turn his knuckles white, but he remained silent. Opening the door, she climbed out of the car. "Come on, out this side. Don't want you to get any ideas about running away."

Dutifully he slid over and out. She handed him the key and he unlocked the door, flipping on the lights. She forced him to enter in front of her. "Sit down on the bed, on your hands. Thank you," she said as he complied. Opening the door to the bathroom, Alex peered inside the small, windowless room. "Okay, go get dried off and put some other clothes on. Then gather all your stuff up." Crossing back to the room's only exit, she leaned against the door, folding her arms over her chest, the gun held loosely in her left hand.

Grabbing a change of clothes from his duffle bag, Blair entered the bathroom, closing the door partway behind him. Stripping out of his soaked jacket, shirt and jeans, he toweled off rapidly and redressed, wondering the whole time what in the hell Alex was thinking. She didn't need a hostage, and he would only slow her down. He grinned at himself in the mirror, yep, that was an idea. Maybe he could stall long enough for Jim to get here. Only Jim didn't know there was anything wrong. Jim just wanted Blair's sorry ass out of his life. Turning on the faucet, he splashed water on his face, feeling the stinging behind his eyelids ease a little. 

"Come on, Blair, we don't have all day." Grabbing his toiletry things from the counter, he re-entered the bedroom and dumped them in his bag. "Call the front desk." She pointed at the phone. "Tell them you're checking out."

He did as he was told, then picked up his bag and left the hotel room in front of her, turning to shut the door. They crossed the few steps to the car and his stuff was thrown into the backseat. Once again, he got in the passenger side of the car and slid across into the driver's seat. Alex climbed in a few seconds later, having retrieved something from her bag on the floor of the rear seat. She handed him the keys, which he stuck in the ignition, then Blair put both hands back on the wheel in plain sight. 

Snik-snik. Alex straightened back up and tucked her gun into the glovebox. "There, that should be a little easier on both of us, hmm?" 

Blair glanced down at the handcuffs connecting his wrist to the steering wheel, fear doing a clog dance in his stomach. "Well, come on, start the car. We've got a long drive ahead of us. Head for the interstate." After a moment's brief hesitation, when nothing vaguely resembling an escape plan came to mind, Blair turned the car on and pulled out of the parking lot.

* * *

Simon Banks watched anxiously as his best friend went over the cheap hotel room with his senses. He kept his eyes on Jim, but his ears were listening intently to the questions Connor was asking the night manager. 

"About what time did Mr. Sandburg return last night?"

The man took the noxious cigar out of his mouth and gestured with it. "Didn't come back last night."

Megan cocked an eyebrow at him. "Then who took Mr. Sandburg's things?"

"He did, when he checked out this morning." The cigar went back in his mouth, and he puffed smoke in the Inspector's direction.

Sighing, Megan tried again. "And what time, this morning, was that?"

"I'd say 'bout 5:30, give or take 15 minutes. Didn't bring the key up to the desk, just called from his room, said he was checking out and to leave the charge on his credit card."

She waved a cloud of smoke away. "Was he alone, do you know? Anyone with him? What kind of car did he leave in?"

The manager scratched the fringe of hair covering his scalp. "I looked out when I heard a car start up. It was Mr. Sandburg in one of those big trucks everyone's driving nowadays. There was a blond lady with him."

Finally! Megan pulled out the mug shot of Alex Barnes. "Could this be the woman you saw?"

"Yep, that's her." Megan continued to question the man as Simon went inside to share the bad news with Jim. He found him in the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

"The manager says Alex was with Sandburg."

Drawing in a long, shuddering breath, Jim slowly turned his head to meet his captain's eyes. "I didn't even know where he was staying. If Blair hadn't given you the name and address of this place, we'd still be trying to find it. And even with that info, we were too late!" He swept his hand across the countertop, knocking the cellophane wrapped plastic drinking cups to the floor. "Damn it, Simon, this is all my fault!"

"Jim, you had no idea she would go after Sandburg--" Simon began.

"That's just it, Simon, I did know, I just didn't recognize what I was seeing." He swore again. "Shit, that whole thing at the foundry was a setup, to draw me out, to kill me so she could take Blair. When that didn't work, she took him anyway."

"To help her with her senses?"

Jim shook his head. "I don't know, I don't know. Maybe, or maybe she just thinks he knows too much about her and wants to get rid of him"

Connor appeared behind Captain Banks. "Sir, the manager says they turned right when they left the parking lot. They could be headed to the airport."

"Or the freeway, or the docks, or to Canada. Airport security is already on the lookout for them." Simon's radio crackled. "Jim, I've got to take this. You gonna be okay here?"

Jim nodded, and Connor and Simon walked outside the hotel room. Taking a seat on the side of the tub, Jim leaned his head in his hands. "God, Blair, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He looked down at the plastic cup on the floor, the hotel's logo taunting him. 'Friendship Inn, the Friendly Place to Stay in Cascade'. "Some kind of friend I've been to you, huh, Blair." Grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes, he stood up and headed outside to go over the manager's story one more time.

* * *

Blair yawned mightily, and tried to focus on the road. They'd been driving steadily southward since dawn, stopping only for gas and to use the restroom. That had been--humiliating was the word that came to mind, that and degrading. The gas station had one unisex bathroom, and Alex hadn't wanted to let him out of her sight. At least she'd turned her back while he'd taken care of business. 

Another four hours had passed in silence, save for her telling him which interchange to take. He'd tried thinking of an escape plan, but hadn't been able to come up with much besides crashing the car, yeah, right, just release that nerve gas over half of Washington state, Blair, and getting pulled over by the police for speeding. That scenario led to a high-speed chase, crashing the car, and spreading nerve gas all over the state again. Driving while handcuffed had taken some getting used to, but he'd managed. Only now his lack of sleep was catching up with him. The tires on the passenger side rumbled as they slipped off the edge of the road again.

Alex grabbed for the dashboard. "Jesus, Blair, watch where you're going!"

"Sorry," he mumbled, "I'm having a hard time staying awake. Can't we pull over at a rest stop or something so I can sleep a little? Or you can drive if you want to keep going, but I'm probably going to get us killed if I go on much longer."

She took a good look at him, noting the dark circles under his eyes, and the exhaustion on his face. She wasn't feeling too wonderful herself. They were hundreds of miles from Cascade, and no one, not even her partner, Carl, knew just how she was getting to their rendezvous. Some food, a good night's rest, and an early start in the morning would keep them on schedule. "Okay, next exit you see with a hotel, you pull off."

Three miles later, Blair turned off the interstate, and after driving for a couple miles on a side road, came to a small town. He pulled into the parking lot of another Friendship Inn, too tired to even chuckle over the irony that was his life. Once again they did their little getting out of the car dance, and he stood quietly by her side as she checked them in as Mr. and Mrs. Brian Brown, paying cash for one night's lodging. 

Once inside the room, Alex checked it out thoroughly, pleased that there were no windows in the bathroom. Turning back to Blair, she said, "Lie down on the bed and get comfortable, then put your hands over your head."

It took him a moment, but he figured out where she was going with this, so he removed his jacket and shoes and complied. She leaned over him, the muzzle of the gun resting against his chest as she handcuffed him to the headboard. That done, she sat down next to him on the edge of the bed, sticking the gun in the waistband of her jeans. She looked at him for a long time, wondering why it bothered her so to see him so helpless, why it felt wrong to her. 

"Alex," he said softly, "are you going to stare at me all night, or do you have some definite plan in mind?" Uh, oh, Sandburg, do you really want her to have a definite plan?

Giving him a pat on the stomach, she rose and walked into the bathroom, talking as she went. "I'm going to go to the Italian place across the street and get us something to eat. What would you like?" she asked, as she returned carrying a washrag and a hand towel. 

He eyed the articles in her hand suspiciously. "Just spaghetti, and a salad, low fat dressing, ranch, if they have it." He didn't think he'd be able to eat much, but he knew he needed to keep his strength up.

She sat down on the bed again. "Drink?"

"Bottled water's fine." 

"Okay. Now, open up," she said, grasping his chin firmly and stuffing the washcloth in his mouth, despite his struggles. When she was done, he was rasping loudly through his nose, and his wrists were red from twisting in the handcuffs. He closed his eyes to try and calm himself, feeling tears slip out from under his lashes. 

He felt her hand rest lightly on his heaving chest, and her voice was almost soothing in his ear. "Easy, babe, easy. I'm sorry I had to do this, but I don't want you screaming for the cops while I'm gone, okay?"

Blinking away the liquid in his eyes, he nodded slowly. Alex wiped his face gently with the towel, then tied it around his head to hold the gag in place. "I'll be back in 15 minutes, tops. Just stay cool, okay?" Again, Blair nodded, and she pressed her hand to his cheek for a moment before she grabbed her purse and left the hotel room.

* * *

Simon hung up the phone and turned his attention to the man pacing his office like a caged animal. "Jim, would you please sit down, you're giving me a headache."

Ellison paused in front of his captain's desk. "Damn it, Simon, I feel so helpless. Sandburg is out there somewhere with that--that bitch, and I have no idea of where to begin to look for him!"

Leaning back in his chair, the older man removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I know how you feel, but we're doing everything we can. The Feds are looking for her, and we have an APB out with a description of the SUV they were driving. We'll find them, Jim, it'll just take time."

Clenching his jaw, Jim inhaled sharply, then said, "I don't know if Sandburg has that much time left." He was turning to leave when Simon's phone rang again.

"Banks. What? Damn it, yes, we'll be right down." Replacing the receiver, he stood up. "That was the harbor patrol. They just fished a body out of the water. They think it might be Sandburg." Moving swiftly around his desk, he caught his friend's arm as he sagged against the door jam. "Jim, damn it, pull it together. Let's not jump to any conclusions. The body's on its way to the morgue now. Come on, I'll drive you." Grabbing his coat, he maneuvered the detective across the bullpen and out the door, ignoring the curious glances they received.

* * *

Blair lay quietly on the bed, his arms stretched over his head, the handcuffs connecting his wrists threaded around the slat in the headboard. He'd tried rubbing his face against his arm to get the gag off, but Alex had known what she was doing. Think calm thoughts, he told himself, just let this go. You're not going to suffocate. Whoops, shouldn't have gone there. His breathing and heartrate began to speed up again. Okay, what's the worst thing that could happen? She could just leave you here, and the maid would find you in the morning, or she could come back, shoot you, and then the maid would find you in the morning. Stop it, stop it, stop it! What is wrong with you, man? 

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think. What am I going to do? How am I going to get out of this? If she unlocks these cuffs when she comes back, I could rush her. And get shot. But what if you got away? What would you do then? Run, find a phone, tell someone. And have her follow you and shoot whomever you went to for help? Damn it, why couldn't he come up with a plan? Oh, and let's not forget the nerve gas. She could just stand there in the parking lot and threaten to open it if he didn't come crawling back to her. 

God, Jim, if there ever was a time I would kiss your ugly puss, it would be right after you break the door down and untie me. Jim. Damn, do you even know I'm missing? Do you even care? Oh, fuck, now he was tearing up again, and couldn't breathe. Calm, stay calm. His heart was pounding so loudly he could hear the blood rushing in his ears, and all he could see were black spots in front of his eyes.

The door to the room opened and closed swiftly, and he heard something hit the floor. Hands tore the towel away from his face, and yanked the gag out of his mouth. He gulped in great swallows of air, feeling his wrists being released from the cuffs. Someone helped him into a sitting position, and he leaned forward, feeling the blood rush to his head. Jim, oh Jim, thank god, thank god.--

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry.-- " That wasn't Jim's voice. Opening his eyes, Blair looked up to find Alex bending over him, her hands on his shoulders, her expression-- frightened? "I'm sorry, Blair, I'm sorry. I thought you would be okay for a few minutes, and then I heard your heart pounding from all the way across the street and--and-- I had to get back here." Her hands dropped to her sides and she took a step back, shaking her head as if she couldn't believe what she'd just said. 

Blair couldn't believe it either. She'd heard his distress and come running? That didn't make any sense, this whole thing didn't make any sense. Scooting back against the headboard, he pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them, resting his forehead against his knees. What in the hell was going on with him? With her for that matter?

Alex stared down at him for a long moment, wanting to touch him, wanting to reassure herself he was okay. She reached her hand out tentatively, then paused it in midair, her fingers inches from his tangled curls. Slowly she tightened them into a fist, digging her nails into her palm, trying to break the grip of whatever this was that had come over her. She finally succeeded by turning away and going to pick up the food she'd dropped to the floor in her haste to get to him. 

Placing the styrofoam carton, bottle of water, and plastic fork on the table beside the bed, she retreated to the small desk on the other side of the room to eat her dinner.

* * *

Breathe, just breathe, Ellison. He leaned against the wall of the parking garage, relief flooding his body. It hadn't been Blair, it hadn't been Blair. He ran a shaking hand over his face, then bent over, resting his hands on his knees.

"Jim, you okay?"

"No, no, Simon, I'm not okay. That was too close, too close." He closed his eyes, still seeing the pale features of the young man lying on the stainless steel table. Same build, same age, same dark hair, but not Sandburg, thank god, not Sandburg. 

Simon approached the sentinel, laying a comforting hand on his back. "Jim, it's late. Go on home, get some rest. We'll start fresh in the morning."

Turning his head, Jim opened his mouth to say something, when the rug was suddenly pulled out from under him. Sounds assaulted his ears, and he clutched his hands to his head, dropping to his knees on the concrete. He scrambled for the dials, trying to turn his hearing down, succeeding only after several excruciating moments of effort. He felt Simon's hands on his arms, and Jim looked up into his worried eyes. "It's okay, sir. I'm fine, just fine." He shrugged off the other man's help and got to his feet.

"You--are--not--fine, Jim," he said, punctuating his words with a forefinger in Jim's chest. "What in the hell was that?"

Jim shook his head slowly, feeling a headache building. "Sensory spike. I haven't had one of those since--" His next words caught in this throat, choking him. "Since I met Sandburg."

"Come on, Jim, let me take you home," Simon said, thinking if he got the sentinel safely tucked in for the night, he could head back down to the station, and burn up the phone lines, searching for any trace of the man that had wormed his way into both their hearts.

* * *

Blair put the half-empty carton down on his lap, tossing the fork inside, then closing the lid and setting it aside. He turned his gaze to Alex, as she crossed the small room toward him. "All done?" He nodded. Picking up the carton, she threw it in the trashcan by the door. "Ready for some sleep?"

"I guess so," he replied, wondering how they were going to accomplish that with one bed, and her need to keep him from escaping while she slept. Maybe he could talk to her now, convince her that if she let him go, he wouldn't turn her in. "Alex." She quit digging in her overnight bag and gave him her full attention. Blair gave her his best smile, and said, "Why don't you just let me go? I mean, I must be seriously cramping your style. You're used to working alone, and I'm just getting in the way." Aw, Sandburg, that was stupid, stupid. Just give her a reason to kill you.

She shook her head. "I can't do that." She went back to what she had been doing.

Puzzled at her response, or rather her lack there of, he asked, "Why?"

Shrugging, she replied, "I don't know." She glanced at him. "You wanna take a shower tonight?"

He felt like they were speaking two different languages, but a shower? That sounded like heaven. "Um, yeah, okay." He got up off the bed slowly, careful not to make any threatening moves, since her gun was still tucked in the back of her jeans, within easy reach. Grabbing his toiletry case, a T-shirt and some sweats, he entered the bathroom and closed the door. 

Man, this was too weird, like he was living in some kind of nightmare. She couldn't let him go, or, he was beginning to suspect, kill him, but she didn't know why. And her reaction when she'd come in earlier, and found him having a panic attack--that was so--so--Jim. His head shot up from where he'd been bent over the sink, and he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Oh, fuck. How could he have been so stupid? Alex was a Sentinel; he was a guide. But how much influence did that have on the dynamic between them and how much was their own personalities? He hadn't come up with any answers by the time he'd finished his shower.

He re-entered the bedroom to find her already under the covers, leaning with her back against the headboard, the gun across her lap. She was playing with the handcuffs. An irrational surge of fear shot through him, and she glanced at him sharply, her senses picking up on his uneasiness. "It's okay," she said softly, "I'm not going to hurt you, or hook you to the bed again. I'm not a monster, I know you're afraid."

"Alex, please, I just want to go home." When had he started shaking? She patted the space next to her, and when he didn't take his place quickly enough, her hand closed over the butt of her gun. He climbed on to the bed, holding out his hands obediently as she snapped the cuffs closed around his wrists. Lying down on his side with his back to her, he closed his eyes as she turned out the light. 

He felt her moving around on the mattress, then nearly jumped out of his skin as her arm went around his waist. "Take it easy," her voice said in his ear, "I just want some advance warning if you decide to get up in the middle of the night." She hadn't come right out and said it, but the threat was there. Blair closed his eyes again, trying to relax in this strange and frightening situation. Exhaustion finally overpowered his fears, and he slept.

* * *

Jim drove aimlessly through the night. Simon had dropped him off at the loft, and he had tried to get some rest, honestly he had, but he'd had the dream again, the one where he'd shot the wolf with the arrow, only there was a new twist to it this time. The injured wolf had morphed into Blair, and the spotted jaguar had slunk out of the jungle to crouch beside him. She had touched her muzzle to his face, and Blair had become the wolf again, getting to his feet and trotting off into the jungle at the jag's side.

He shook himself out of the memory, and took a look around. Somehow he'd ended up outside Alex's apartment. Pulling the truck over to the curb, he switched off the ignition. He stared at the building for a while, finally going with the urge to visit her home again.

Ducking under the crime scene tape, he entered the blasted remains of the other sentinel's territory. He wandered around for a few minutes, carefully extending his senses, trying to figure out what had drawn him here. A chair caught his eye, and he slowly laid his hands on the smoke damaged back. Immediately he got a vision of a man in the apartment with Alex, a man with a distinctive pockmarked face. The image dissolved to Alex standing in a doorway, through which could be glimpsed a beach. As the scene unfolded, Blair entered the frame, his hand going to her shoulder, supporting her as she utilized her senses. Jim snatched his hands back as though they'd been burned. 

He felt himself trembling, and he recognized the emotion as rage. How dare he, how dare he help her! A low growl escaped his lips, and he stalked out of the apartment. The sentinel managed to calm down somewhat by the time he reached the Ford. No matter what he thought he saw in the vision, it at least it confirmed that Sandburg was still alive. Swinging up into the cab, he started the engine and headed for the station. If he had to, he would get a sketch artist out of bed; he was certain the man he'd seen in the vision was the key to finding Alex and Blair.

* * *

The sounds of someone in extreme distress woke Blair from a dreamless sleep. He was disoriented for a moment, then he moved his arm, and the weight of the handcuffs on his wrists brought his situation rushing back to him. The noise reached his ears again, and Blair rolled over to find Alex in the throes of a nightmare. She was tangled in the sheets, her face and hair soaked with sweat, her body trembling. 

This was his chance! His chance to escape! Blair knew from living with Jim that nothing short of a train wreck or a guide's interference would bring the sentinel out of whatever vision lay behind her closed eyes. Slipping off the bed, he padded silently across the room, trying to remember where she'd put the keys to the truck. If he could find the keys, he could take the truck and the nerve gas it contained and drive to the nearest police station. 

His fingers had just closed around the precious pieces of metal when Alex's indistinct mumblings became words. "No, don't--you can't hurt him--no--" Blair paused in front of the door. Come on man, open the door, get out, run! Her words became heart-wrenching screams. "Nooo! Blair!"

Somehow he found himself on the bed next to her, his bound hands gripping her shoulder gently, his voice dropping into the soothing guide timbre. "Alex, Alex, it's okay. You're having a dream. It's time to wake up now. Come back, follow my voice back." She came out of it swinging, and he wasn't quick enough. Her clenched fist caught him in the right eye, and Blair tumbled off the end of the mattress, hitting the floor hard enough to knock the wind out of him. 

He lay there, dazed, trying to draw a full breath, hearing another thud, and what sounded like muffled sobs coming from the other side of the bed. Slowly, Blair sat up, his head ringing. "Alex? Alex, you okay?" 

More crying sounds and then a pleading "Blair--help me--please--make it stop--"

Crawling around the end of the bed, he found her lying on the floor, curled into a tight, shaking ball. "It's all right, it's gonna be all right," he whispered, his hands going to her shoulder once again, feeling her trembling ease under his light touch. "Take a deep breath, then let it out really slowly, let all the bad things go." He sat there, talking to her, helping her get her senses, her panic, under control. 

Finally, she sat up, leaning back against the mattress, staring at him. He scooted away until he felt the wall at his back, and returned her startled gaze. What had he just done? He could have escaped; he could have gotten away. He buried his face in his hands. He heard her get to her feet, cross the room, and return, but didn't lift his head to look.

There was a soft click, and the handcuffs fell away from his wrists. Her fingers wrapped around his, pulling his hands away from his face. "Oh, shit, did I do that to you?" Fingertips traced the rapidly swelling skin under his eye. "Ice, we need some ice." Standing swiftly, she grabbed the plastic ice bucket off the dresser, and left the room.

Alone, Blair shoved both hands in his hair. What was happening to him? Why hadn't he run? Why was he just sitting here now? What was this overwhelming need he felt to stay here, with her? Oh, man, Jim, if you were here, you'd be telling me I'd finally slipped off the deep end.

The door opened, and a few seconds later, Alex was on her knees beside him, towel-wrapped ice being pressed gently to his eye. Her hand under his chin supported his head, and Blair felt himself getting lost in that touch, in the power of her presence. He closed his eyes for just a second, and when he opened them, he was no longer in a ratty hotel room in a nameless town somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. A tropical rainforest rose around him and right in front of him stood the towering remains of an ancient temple, its stones crumbling, the foliage overrunning it, but it was the most magnificent sight he'd ever seen. He blinked once in amazement, and it was gone.

Startled, he gasped and jerked, smacking the back of his head against the wall. "Ow!"

Fingers ran lightly through his hair, checking for bruises. "Relax, babe, I'm trying to fix it, not make it worse."

He realized she was picking up on his suddenly racing heart, thinking it was from fear. "Alex, Alex, I saw it! I saw it!" She stopped her fussing and met his excited eyes. "I saw the temple, the temple of the Sentinel!"

* * *

"Carl Hettinger?" Simon was seated on the edge of the conference table in his office, staring at the mug shot and police record of said man. He raised his eyes to look at the unnaturally subdued sentinel, well, subdued after last night's frantic worry.

Seated on the windowsill, Jim peered out the glass, not meeting Simon's eyes as he spoke. "I had seen him, and then had an artist's rendering run through the Feds database and it spit out a name."

Simon read from the file. "Hettinger--international weapons trafficking, known to have contact with South American drug lords Carlos Arguillo, Zaqua Caesaro. And you saw this man with Alex Barnes?"

Jim's reply was matter of fact. "Yeah, at her apartment."

"Why didn't you mention this before?" Simon glared at his friend.

The detective avoided answering the question. "Simon, this guy is known to have traveled to Sierra Verde twice in the last three months. Now, Arguillo operates out of the same region. I think that's where we're going to find Alex and the nerve toxin."

"And Sandburg?"

Again the sentinel skirted around the question. "My senses are doing weird things, Simon. I'm... seeing things." He finally met his superior's eyes, trying to convey with a look what he couldn't verbalize.

Simon blinked in astonishment. "You got all this from a vision?"

"Yeah, I got a clear mental image of her talking to him." He gestured at the file in Simon's hands. "Then I saw a beach."

"A beach in Sierra Verde?" Simon's tone was sarcastic.

Jim turned haunted eyes to his friend. "That's exactly what I'm saying, Simon. And there's more." 

"What do you mean, there's more?" And do I really want to know?

Sighing, Jim looked back out at the steadily pouring rain. He finally said, "I saw Alex, and Blair."

"That's great news, Jim! That means he's alive!" Setting the file down on the table, he approached the other man, who should have been more excited by the news. "Okay, what is it you're not telling me?"

Jim pressed his palm to the cold glass, and his next words were almost a whisper. "He's working with her, Simon."

Stunned, unable to find any words to comfort his friend, Simon simply laid a hand on his shoulder and hoped that would be enough.

* * *

Alex stared at Blair for a moment, then put his hand in place of hers on the ice pack, and got to her feet. Crossing the room to her bag, she started pulling out clothes and putting them on.

"Alex? What is it? What's going on?" Blair was confused, which, he realized, seemed to be the normal state of affairs for him lately.

She glanced at him as she pulled on a pair of jeans. "I'm getting out of here."

"It's three o'clock in the morning! Why do you-- " Wait a minute, wait a minute, she'd said, 'I' not 'we'. His heart started pounding again, and he felt light-headed. That meant she didn't need him anymore, that meant he was expendable, that meant--

"Stop it, stop it!" She was holding her hands to her head; her eyes squeezed shut in pain.

Laying the ice down, Blair got up from his position on the floor and went to her, leading her to the bed, forcing her to sit down. "Alex, relax, relax. Don't try and push through it right now, you're tired. Just pull it back, turn down the dial." When he felt the tension leave her, he asked, "What happened? What triggered the spike?"

Lifting her head, her tired blue eyes met his. "You. You were afraid, and your heart started racing, and it was so loud, and I knew you were afraid of me." Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, and tears slid down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs for a moment, but she pushed away his attempts to comfort her. Drawing in a long breath, she finally spoke again. "I can't hurt you, Blair. I don't know why. I tried, at the fountain, but there was this voice inside my head, like the voice I hear in my dreams, telling me that it's the Sentinel's duty to protect the Guide. I don't know what a guide is, but I know it has something to do with you--and every time I hurt you, or make you afraid, it's like I feel what you feel, magnified a hundred times."

The anthropologist stared at her, a million theories flashing through his mind, most of them being discarded, but one in particular seemed feasible, almost logical, almost natural. What if a Sentinel's guide couldn't just be anybody off the street? What if it was really Guide, with a capital 'G' instead of a lower case one? What if a Guide was as genetically different as a Sentinel, and they were specifically designed to work in tandem, as a team, as one unit, not as Sentinel and geeky guy chasing after him taking notes and shoving him under garbage trucks when he zoned? 

"Oh, man!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and beginning to pace, his thoughts tumbling over each other in his eagerness to share his breakthrough with her. "Alex, Alex, I'm a guide, I mean I'm a Guide! What you're experiencing is perfectly natural. What I'm feeling is normal, is supposed to be the way a Sentinel/Guide pair interact. Oh, man, I thought I was going crazy because I couldn't escape when I had the chance--"

Alex frowned. "You were trying to escape?"

He waved his hands placatingly. "But I couldn't, don't you see? You needed me, and my instincts wouldn't let me abandon you! Just as your instincts wouldn't let you really hurt me! Oh, wow, Jim is really going to freak when he hears this!" Jim--shit-- this would not be what he wanted to hear. Being told he had a genetic need for a Guide would not go over well with "Mr. I-Don't-Need-Anyone-Else-To-Define-Me". 

At the mention of Ellison's name, Alex had risen and started dressing again. "Alex, talk to me. What is it? What's making you feel you have to leave right now, and leave me behind?"

Stopping what she was doing, she looked at him, struggling to put into words what she was feeling. "Because if I leave you behind, you'll be safe."

Blair grabbed her hand and squeezed it, his expression earnest and eager. "Why? Something must have triggered it, something I said, the temple! I told you I saw the temple and you freaked!"

_Wolf running through the jungle. Warrior with painted skin notching an arrow to a bow. Drawing the arrow back, letting it fly, shooting the wolf. The wolf shifting into Blair. Blair was hurt, dying--_ "No!" Alex backed away from Blair. "I won't let him kill you, I won't! And he can't, if you stay here."

Someone wanted to kill him? "Who, Alex, who wants to kill me?" he asked anxiously.

"Your friend, the other Sentinel, Detective Ellison."

* * *

Simon set a mug of coffee down in front of Jim. "When was the last time you ate something?" he asked the sentinel. Jim rubbed his eyes tiredly, and tried to focus on the map of Sierra Verde spread out on the conference table. "Or slept?"

"I got a couple hours in last night, before...." His words trailed off and he clenched his jaw.

"Before what? Before you had this vision of Blair and Alex together? Come on, Jim. How much stock can you put in that anyway? You don't know the back story, all you got was one tiny glimpse of them together, or is there still something else you're leaving out?"

Pushing his chair back from the table violently, Jim stalked over to the window and stared out. "It just--turns my stomach. She nearly killed me at the foundry. If it hadn't been for Connor showing up when she did--"

The captain pulled a cigar out of his pocket, and rolled it between his fingers, observing the lines of tension in his friend's back. "Jim, Sandburg doesn't know that."

"Well, he should be able to figure it out! He's read her rap sheet; that security guard she shot is still in the hospital. He's intelligent, he's resourceful, he should be trying to figure out some way to get away from her, not help her, for christ's sake!"

Simon considered his next words carefully, then decided it didn't matter if Jim didn't like what he had to say, he needed to hear it. "Have you stopped to think about the fact that you brought this on yourself?"

Jim whirled around, his eyes flashing dangerously. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the conversation you had with Sandburg a little over 36 hours ago, right out there." He gestured toward the bullpen. "The one where you told him you couldn't trust him, that maybe he should seek out someone else to write about, that you didn't need his help. You practically pushed him into her arms, Jim."

Ellison's eyes closed, the dream of the previous night running through his mind. He shot the wolf, and she healed him. Turning his back on his friend, he said, so low that the other man had to strain to hear him, "I know, Simon, I know."

* * *

"Jim--Jim's trying to kill me?" Blair's knees suddenly felt weak, and he grabbed for the edge of the dresser.

Alex's hand on his elbow steadied him. "That's what I was dreaming about when you woke me up. I was in the jungle and I saw a wolf running. Your friend was a warrior, who shot the wolf with an arrow, and the wolf turned into you." Her fingers under his chin lifted his face so his eyes met hers. "I can't let that happen." She struggled for the words to express what else she was feeling.

He interrupted her before she found them. "It already has, Alex." It was her turn to pull him over to the bed and sit him down. 

"What are you talking about?"

Blair leaned his elbows on his knees, and dug his fingers into his hair. "Last night, a couple hours before you came to my office, Jim told me that he couldn't trust me, because I helped you, and didn't tell him about you. He told me to find someone else to write about, like I even give a damn about that stupid dissertation. He told me he didn't need my help to find out who he was." The guide wrapped his arms around his stomach, wondering if the pain in his gut was the result of the spiritual arrow the sentinel had shot him with. 

He felt Alex's hands rest tentatively on his knees, and her words, when they came, were soft and hesitant. "I'm sorry. It's hard for me to imagine what that kind of a relationship would be like--but from your reaction, I can tell he hurt you very much." He nodded dumbly, and she touched his head gently as she straightened up. He looked up to find her sliding her feet into her shoes.

"Don't tell me you're still going to leave?"

She shouldered her bag. "I have to." Snagging the keys from where he'd left them in the middle of the bed, she grabbed her gun from underneath the pillow and tucked it into her purse. She turned to find him standing in front of the door.

"I can't let you do this, Alex." She stared at him in disbelief. "Look, just listen to me for second. I know you can't tell me where you're going, but obviously it's dangerous if you want to leave me behind."

Tossing her head in irritation, she said sarcastically, "Yeah, it's dangerous. I'm going to meet my partner, who's already told me he's looking to get rid of me. And his method of changing partners leaves a lot to be desired." She made a gun with her forefinger and thumb and pointed it at her temple. 

Blair grabbed her hand and yanked it down. "That's why you need me then, to watch your back, to protect you, to keep you safe."

Her eyes widened, and she took a step back from him, a soft little sob her only articulation. "Alex, what's the matter? What'd I say?" 

She shook her head slowly, fighting not to cry. "No one's ever--I--no one's ever wanted to--take care of me, to protect me. I've always been alone." She lost the battle, and the tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

Wrapping his arms around her, Blair pulled her into a gentle hug. "It's okay, it's okay. We're both tired and on edge, and vulnerable. Let's get couple hours more sleep, and take a fresh look at things in the morning, okay?" He felt her nod her head against his shoulder, and he took her bag and set it back down on the dresser as she undressed again. Gathering the covers from where they had fallen on the floor, he climbed back in bed, tucking them both in. 

Flipping off the bedside light, Blair lay on his back next to her, suddenly having mixed feelings about what he was doing. Alex was a criminal, he reminded himself, a thief with a propensity toward violence, and...and...She inched closer to him on the mattress, and he lifted his arm, feeling her tuck in against his side, a happy little sigh escaping her lips as she closed her eyes. 

Blair blinked away the sudden dampness in his eyes. Jim, man, I'm sorry. I don't know what's happening here, and I never meant to hurt you, but she needs me in a way you never did. I'm a Guide now, and maybe, just maybe I can help her, not only with her senses, but in turning her life around. That would be worth it, wouldn't it? To help her become what she was meant to be, a Sentinel, a protector of the tribe instead of an outcast from it. He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Yeah, that would be worth it.

* * *

The small plane hit another patch of turbulence, and Blair grabbed for Alex's hand, nearly stabbing her with the pen he was also clutching. "Hey, watch it, babe. I thought a Guide was supposed to protect the Sentinel, not spear them with writing implements." She gave him a warm smile. "Relax, it's only a couple more hours."

"A couple more hours! Alex, maybe you didn't understand me when I told you this before: I'm afraid of heights, really high heights, like airplane heights--"

She gave his arm a squeeze. "We'll be fine. Right, Paco?"

The pilot didn't move his eyes from the instrument panel. "Si, senorita, everything is a-okay."

"You better pray it is, with what we're carrying," Blair muttered under his breath, "or say goodbye to a big part of the rainforest."

She poked him in the side. "Keep your morbid thoughts to yourself. Go back to writing your letter, get your mind off the storm."

Sighing, Blair did as he was told, re-reading the first part of what was rapidly becoming a novel.

_Dear Jim ,_

Well, that was debatable. Jim was still dear to him, but was he still dear to Jim? Probably not, certainly not if he ever got to read this letter. More morbid thoughts...what was he doing? Oh, the letter!

_Well, I've been gone for three days now. Have you noticed I'm missing yet? Part of me hopes you have, and part of me wants to spare you that pain, or really the pain I imagine you must be feeling if you've put two and two together, and figured out Alex kidnapped me. Which she did, but I'm not kidnapped any more, I'm kind of willingly going along for the ride now._

_And it's turned out to be a really interesting trip. Alex is...complex. A lot like you, really. Makes me wonder what a Sentinel without a seriously fucked up childhood would be like. Probably amazing... not that the two of you aren't amazing, but, well, I can't help but feel your life experiences have maybe stunted your potential. Anyway, it was a really long drive to Tijuana. I know, I drove most of the way. And once Alex and I came to an understanding, and I'll get into that later, we talked, and talked, mostly about the Sentinel stuff._

_Like you, she'd had heightened senses from childhood, and a traumatic event caused her to repress them at about 6 or 7. She couldn't really remember the exact age, but with a little bit of coaching from me, she could access the memory of what happened. That really wasn't the direction we were heading in, it just kind of came out. Seems her natural parents were members of a very small strict fundamentalist religious sect, woman's place is in the home, spare the rod, spoil the child kind of thing, no tolerance for anyone or anything that was beyond their realm of right. Now imagine being born into that world with heightened senses. When she started showing signs of being "different", they tried to beat her senses out of her, sometimes locking her in a closet for days, which, ironically, only strengthened them. After several years of trying that and failing, they, in their wisdom, decided she was possessed. My god, Jim, they tied a six-year-old girl to a bed and performed an exorcism on her!_

_And like everything else they'd tried, it failed to make her senses disappear. Her parents finally managed that when they turned their "problem child" over to Child Welfare Services. The trauma of being torn from the only home she'd ever known, as horrible as it was, buried those senses so deep it took solitary confinement in prison to force them out again._

_Anyway, after CWS took over her case, she was shuffled from foster home to foster home, and I'm suspecting more often than not abused. But as she told me, "It was kind of comforting, because that's where I came from, that's what I understood. I didn't do too well in those families that talked about love. I mean, what's there to love about me?" I started bawling then, just listening to her talk about herself that way. I'm trying to help her, I really am, but I think it might take a lifetime to make her see that she really is worth loving._

_I just read over that last sentence, and I realize you must be thinking I've lost my mind. That's what I thought too, until it hit me the first night on the road, what I am, what my purpose in life is. Hold on to your socks, Jim, cause this is gonna knock them right off. I'm a Guide. Not a guide, but a Guide. I'm like you and Alex, in that I'm different from everybody else. I can hear you right now, saying, "You just figuring that out now, Chief?" Well, yeah, I guess so. There's some ancient, mysterious, genetic synchronicity between Sentinels and Guides. They are necessary to each other's existence. Just how, I haven't figured out yet, but I know there's certain lines we can't cross. Like Alex couldn't hurt me, and when I had the chance, I couldn't leave her, not when she needs my help._

_But I'm getting off track here a little bit. Anyway, the rest of Alex's life can pretty much be gleaned from her police record. In and out of juvie, then worked her way up to women's prisons in Oregon and California. That's where she met her current partner, a shady lawyer with South American connections, who saw the potential a person with heightened senses would have as a high-tech thief. He got her sentence shortened, and once she was out, she began working for him. But now, he seems to see her as more of a liability than an asset and, we've come to the conclusion, is looking for a way to get rid of her._

_Which brings me to the reason my handwriting is so horrible. I'm in this little tin can, flying over these mountainous rainforests, and like it does in a rainforest, it's raining, and the turbulence is terrible. And, I have to admit, I'm scared shitless, not just about this flight, but about what I've done with the rest of my life. I'm aiding and abetting now, Jim. There's no way a judge and jury are going to buy the hostage thing if we get caught. I've helped transport stolen US government property across state lines, and national borders. I'm heading to a meeting with a man who wants Alex dead, and whatever drug lord he's dealing with._

_And like the hopeless optimist I am, I talked Alex into running toward trouble instead of away from it. We have a plan, not a very complicated one, but dangerous of course. Wouldn't want to screw up the track record, now would we? I told her she was crazy when she agreed to go along with it, told her she was a bad influence on me. And she told me she thought it was the other way around, that I was a good influence on her. Anyway, we're going to try to get out of this alive, but if it doesn't happen, then hopefully this letter will find its way to your hands._

_I just wanted to make sure you know, Jim, that you were a hell of a lot more than a research subject to me. Despite our differences, we became friends, best friends, almost brothers, and I thought we could weather anything. I guess I was wrong. I'm not looking to lay the blame anywhere, Jim, but if I was, I'd have to lay it on my own shoulders. Not for helping Alex, no matter how I look at that, I can't see I did anything wrong. Yeah, not telling you was wrong, not looking closer at the things going on between us was wrong. And that was my fault, because I didn't know what I was. I didn't know that there were all kinds of instinctual things going on with me too. I hadn't even considered the possibility that I, as the Guide, was as important a part of the equation as the Sentinel, and maybe part of the reason for that lies with you. Not anything I think you did consciously, maybe I just was so in awe of what you are, that I kind of lost sight of my own contributions._

_I promise I won't make the same mistake with Alex. I can't afford to. It would get us killed._

_I guess that's about it. Our pilot tells me we'll be landing to refuel shortly, and if I get up enough nerve, I'll stick a stamp on this and drop it in the mailbox._

Blair twirled the pen nervously in his fingers for a moment, then scrawled, _Love, Blair_ , at the bottom. Alex leaned over and said above the noise of the engine, "All done?"

He nodded, his pain-filled eyes meeting hers. Her fingers wound with his, and she squeezed reassuringly. "It's okay. You aren't alone; neither of us is alone any more." 

He leaned his forehead against her shoulder as the plane's wheels touched the ground. "Goodbye, Jim," he breathed.

* * *

Jim Ellison walked out of the local estacion de policia, his long legs carrying him back toward the hotel at a rapid pace. Simon lengthened his stride to catch up. "Jim. Jim!" Catching the other man's arm, he pulled him to a stop. "Hold on a second. What in the hell's up with you?"

"Ortega was lying, Simon. He knows something about Hettinger, and Arguillo. God! I can't believe we're wasting time like this! Alex is here; I can feel it! And if she's here, then Sandburg is too."

Simon let go of his arm, and they proceeded at a slower pace. "Are you sure Ortega was lying, Jim? After all, your senses haven't exactly been firing on all cylinders lately." He was referring to the five separate occasions he had caught the sentinel either zoning, or experiencing a sensory spike, in the 96 hours since Blair had gone missing. He was beginning to seriously worry about his friend, and he was starting to think that the only reason Jim Ellison had held it together for the past four years was because of one person, Blair Sandburg.

"Yes, Simon, he was lying. I didn't need heightened senses to read his body language. He was nervous, couldn't look us in the eye, and the news that someone's smuggled nerve gas into his jurisdiction didn't seem to upset him a bit. I'll lay you odds he's on Arguillo's payroll."

"You may be right there, Jim. But where does that leave us?" He opened the side door to the hotel, and they headed for the stairwell.

"I want to check out Arguillo's compound. Maybe find out if the nerve gas has been delivered yet. If it hasn't, maybe we can get a lead on Hettinger, Alex and Sandburg if they try to arrange a drop off." 

They rounded the corner of the stairwell, and were confronted by the sight of a familiar figure leaning over the twisted body of a man at the bottom of the stairs. "Connor!" Simon barked. "What are you doing here, and what in the hell happened to him?"

Inspector Megan Connor looked up from trying to find a pulse. "I don't know, sir. I heard a noise outside my room, some shouting, though I couldn't make out the words, and then I heard him fall. I was--indecent, and by the time I pulled something on, whoever else was out here was gone."

Jim knelt beside her, feeling for a pulse at the neck, and finding none. Rolling the man onto his back, he looked up at his superior in surprise. "It's Hettinger. His neck's broken, and--" he examined the man's hands, "there's powder burns on his right hand. Did you hear any shots, Connor?" He glanced around, but couldn't find a gun.

She shook her head. "No, but it could have been silenced." She opened his suit jacket, intending to search his pockets. Instead she rocked back slightly at the sight of a fresh bloodstain on the front of his shirt. "Bugger! I thought he just fell or was pushed. Didn't realize he'd been shot."

Ellison leaned over, examining the stain more closely. "He wasn't, there's no bullet hole in the shirt, and no wound. This is someone else's blood." Without really intending to, he took a deep breath and was lost in a whirlwind of images.

_Hettinger, screaming at Alex, Blair visible behind her. A gun being fired. Alex dropping to the ground. A blur of motion, another shot, and two bodies tumbling down the stairs, only one of them getting to their feet. A curly haired anthropologist rose from the tangle, one hand clutching his side, crimson blood spilling over his fingers as he ascended the stairs--_

"JIM!" His captain's roar and solid shaking brought him out of the zone.

Bringing a hand to his aching head, Ellison winced. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! They were here, Simon! We just missed them, they were here!" Leaping to his feet, he took the stairs two at a time, registering the bloody handprint on the rail, and the spatters of blood on the concrete floor of the hallway. He followed the trail to a door halfway down. Not bothering with knocking, he yanked out his weapon and kicked it open.

It was empty, but in some disarray, as if the occupants had left in a hurry. More bloodstains adorned the carpet in front of the door, and blood-spotted towels were tossed on the bed. Picking one up, he sniffed it. Damn, they were both injured.

"Jim? What did you find?" Simon stood in the doorway, his keen eyes taking in the room. "Connor's gone to get Ortega, not that that'll do us a hell of a lot of good, if he's working for Arguillo and this is his work."

Ellison shook his head. "No, Arguillo had no part in this. I saw bits and pieces of what happened. Hettinger shot Alex, and Sandburg." The image of his friend, his guide, trying to stem the flow of his own blood flooded his mind. He shrugged it off with a curse. "Damn it. Keep it together, Ellison." He met Banks' eyes again. "Sandburg went after him, they both took a header down the stairs, and Hettinger got another shot off. Blair's hurt, I don't know how badly, so's Alex."

Simon ran a hand over his close cropped hair. "Aw, damn it." He slammed his fist against the door in what for him was an uncharacteristic outburst. Shaking his hand ruefully, he gazed around the room again. "They didn't have time to take everything with them, there's gotta be a clue to where they would be headed in here somewhere." He walked over to the dresser and started yanking open drawers.

Jim crossed to the table that stood in front of the open door to the small balcony. Through it he could see the long wooden form of a pier, and a beach dotted with palm trees. Another flash of memory caught him by surprise. _Alex leaning against the door jam, concentrating on a conversation that was taking place on a boat tied up to the pier. Blair stood beside her, his hand lightly rubbing her shoulder, supporting his partner._ Jim came back to the present with a gasp. 

"You okay, Jim?" he heard his captain ask.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Just seeing some things I'd rather not...." His voice trailed off as he looked down at a map lying on the table, a map of the jungle surrounding the village, with the locations of the local ruins clearly marked. Lifting the map up, he found a drawing of a pyramidal temple, a carving in the shape of an eye prominent on its side. 

Again he felt himself falling into a vision, helpless to stop it. _Alex and Blair racing through the jungle, looking back over their shoulders, dodging bullets. Climbing the steps of the ancient ruin, they joined hands, then placed the palms of their free hands, her left, his right, on either side of the eye. A door opened, and they disappeared inside._

"Jimbo? Ellison? Are you there?"

This time it was Connor pulling him back, and he blinked once, then his eyes focused again on the drawing. "Simon, come here." When the other man had moved to stand beside them, Jim pointed at the picture. "This is where we'll find them. This is where they're headed. It's calling to them."

Connor looked swiftly from one man to the other, her expression confused, but she held her tongue.

"Can you find it, Jim?" Simon asked.

The sentinel nodded. "It's calling to me, too."


	2. Chapter 2

"Blair? How do I look?"

He turned around on the balcony, having been gazing at the waves breaking on the shore as she'd been changing her clothes. Stepping through the open door, she joined him. "Think this will be distraction enough?" She spun slowly, modeling the open-backed, flowered sundress. 

"Hmm, what?" he said, dragging his eyes back to her face. 

She laughed, a delighted smile spreading across her face. "Never mind, you just gave me my answer." Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

That innocent touch sent a rush of adrenaline flooding through him. "What was that for?"

Suddenly nervous, Alex moved past him to lean on the railing, watching a boat tying up at the pier. "I--Just my way of saying thank you, I guess. For everything, Blair." She turned to face him, and he could see a myriad of emotions flashing in her eyes. "You didn't have to help me. I mean I was just some wacko stranger in the police station, and yet you took an interest in me, wanted to help me. And after all the things I've done to you, to your friends…"

"Alex--"

She shook her head. "I tried to kill him, you know. Plotted it all out and everything."

He knew this was going to be bad, but like a car accident on the freeway, he couldn't stop himself from gaping. "Kill who, Alex?"

Staring down at her hands resting on the railing, she replied softly, "Jim."

Blair's heart stopped. No, no, Jim wasn't dead; Jim couldn't be dead. But it made a sick sort of sense, kill the rival sentinel and steal his guide. It was territoriality at its most basic, powerful warrior magic. "Alex, tell me you didn't. Tell me Jim's okay!"

"He's fine, he's fine. That cop who arrested me when I wrecked my car saved him. I don't know what I was thinking. It was stupid, wasting a cop is stupid, they fry you for that. But I couldn't help myself, I just--" Her hands fluttered in the air for a moment, then she wrapped them around her stomach. "Blair, just go, get out of here. Go back to Jim, go back to where it's safe."

He could hear the fear, the pain in her voice. Things were happening to her, things she didn't understand. Blair didn't have a handle on it either, but the feelings, the instincts he'd had on the way to Sierra Verde had only become stronger the minute they'd arrived. Yes, she'd tried to hurt Jim, yes, she'd hurt him, but she wasn't that person anymore. He could see her changing before his eyes. Reaching out his hand to her, he rubbed her arm gently. "I'm not going to leave you, Alex. I promise you, we're in this together." He wiped away a tear that was sneaking its way down her cheek.

Taking a deep breath, she shrugged off his hands. "I'm okay, I'm okay." She tossed her head and swiped at her eyes. "I think I've cried more in the last three days than I have the last 20 years."

Blair smiled at her. "Well, tears are the spirit's way of cleansing itself, of getting through the past, so you can get on with the future." She looked toward him then, her eyes curious, and full of wonder, as if she was just seeing him for the first time. This must be what it's like to zone, he thought, as he found himself lost in those clear blue depths, sensing her lean toward him, anticipating her mouth on his--

A loud knock on the door startled them both. "Damn, that must be Carl. Quick, get in the closet!" Alex darted back into the room, checking her hair and makeup in the mirror rapidly, as Blair ducked into the small closet, closing the louvered door behind him. He heard her open the door and greet Hettinger, then there was silence for a long moment. When they spoke again, it was obvious they'd moved across the room to the balcony. Blair peered through the slats in the door, able to make out Alex leaning against the door jam, and Carl standing close to her--too close.

Alex slid her hands up his chest, and tilted her head back to receive his kiss. Blair shoved a fist in his mouth to keep his sudden anger from being verbalized. God, what was happening to him? Where was this jealousy coming from? Shaking his head to clear it, he turned his concentration back to their conversation. 

"I should still go with you," Alex was saying.

Carl took a step back. "Arguillo will only work with me."

"I'm your partner."

Turning his back on her, Carl began to head for the door. "You're the thief, I'm the fence. I'll be back in a couple hours." He passed out of Blair's line of sight, but he could clearly hear his next words. "We can go out and celebrate."

The sentinel fairly purred, "Why don't we stay in and celebrate?"

Carl's response made Blair want to gag. "Even better." The hotel room door opened and shut, and Blair let out the breath he'd been holding. 

Alex yanked the door to his hiding place open. "You okay?"

He stalked out and sat down on the bed with a thump. "What in the hell was that all about? 'Why don't we stay in and celebrate'?"

She stared at him for a moment, then began to chuckle until she was almost doubled over laughing. "Oh…god…Blair, you are too funny!" She took another look at his irritated expression, and collapsed next to him on the bed with the giggles. "Oh, you should see yourself! Jealousy is not a good look on you!"

"I am not jealous--" 

Grabbing his arm, she pulled him down beside her, so his face was inches from hers. "Yes, you are. And it's…oh, damn you , Blair, you're gonna make me cry again." She got to her feet, walking to the balcony and peering out toward the dock.

Blair rose and followed her. "Alex, I'm sorry." 

She made a shushing motion at him. "Carl went out to the boat, Arguillo's there." Her brow furrowed slightly in concentration and Blair's hand automatically went to her back, anchoring her. "That bastard! He's raising the price!" she growled.

"Easy, Alex, it doesn't matter. He's not going to see any of that money, remember?" They remained in that position for several more minutes, then he felt her relax under his hand.

"He's leaving."

"Do you know the location of the drop-off?" 

She nodded. "It's out in the jungle. I'll write down the directions for you."

Blair grinned at her. "And I'll make that phone call."

* * *

They were toasting with champagne, a bit prematurely, perhaps, and Blair felt kind of odd celebrating with a fancy wine instead of a cold beer, but Carl had taken the nerve gas, headed to the meeting three hours ago, and hadn't returned. Alex touched the lip of her glass to his. "Here's to--and this is a first for me, the loss of 2 million dollars."

Blair returned her smile. "And to new beginnings." They were just about to drink when someone pounded on the door. 

Giving Blair a curious glance, Alex went to open it. Carl Hettinger stood there, a large backpack in his hand, breathing hard, his normally immaculate appearance ruffled. "Alex, pack your things. We have to get out of here! It was a setup!" Brushing past her into the room, he tossed the pack on the bed, pulling up short at the sight of Blair. "Who in the hell is he? Alex, what's going on?"

"Um, he's ah--the man I told you about, the one helping me with my senses." 

Carl stared at her. "The college professor?" His eyes narrowed as he spied the bottle of champagne and glasses. His hand slid inside his jacket. "You set me up! You bitch!" He drew his gun as she took a step toward him. "Jesus, Alex, I don't believe you. You'd throw away your share just to get me out of your hair?" He waved the gun in Blair's direction. "I sure hope he was worth it, because he's gonna be pretty useless to you full of holes."

Blair didn't even have time to react. Suddenly Alex was in front of him, her body jerking as she took the bullet meant for him. Something snapped inside the Guide, rage fueling a mad rush. He slammed into Hettinger, his momentum carrying them through the still open door and into the hallway. They bounced off the railing to the stairs, Blair's hands wrapped in the other man's lapels. He smashed his forehead into Carl's face, feeling him stagger back, dragging Blair with him. And then the earth dropped out from under his feet. Still tangled up with Hettinger, he tumbled down the stairs, fire lancing through his side an instant before they hit bottom and everything went black. 

He came to in a few seconds, his hand going automatically to the pain that streaked across his ribcage. His fingers came away warm and sticky. Shit. Blair hauled himself to his feet using the handrail of the staircase, turning to look back at his fallen opponent. Double shit. He'd seen enough dead bodies to know that Carl wasn't getting up again. Bending down, he picked up the discarded gun, then headed back up the stairs, afraid of what he'd find.

When he arrived at the room, the Sentinel was nowhere in sight. "Alex?"

"In here." The voice calling from the bathroom was hoarse with pain. Blair entered the small room to find Alex seated on the toilet, trying to hold a towel to her right shoulder with a shaking hand. 

"Oh, damn," he whispered, going to help her. Steeling himself, Blair examined the wound. It wasn't too bad, painful as hell he knew from experience, but the shot had gone clean through. He returned to the bedroom and came back with the bottle of champagne and the sheet from the bed. 

Her eyes widened as she caught onto his intention. Clasping her hand over her mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut as he swabbed the alcohol over both the entrance and exit wounds, then tore the sheet into strips and bound the injury tightly. 

"Carl?" she asked, suddenly remembering that threat.

Blair shook his head. "He won't be causing us any more problems."

She could see that whatever he'd done troubled him, but now was not the time to get into it. "Blair, oh, fuck, babe, you're bleeding." Her hands went to the bottom of his shirt, raising it gently, hearing his hiss of pain. She got to her feet, pushing him back against the counter as she efficiently cleaned and bandaged the 6-inch graze along his right side. A sound in the hallway caught her attention. "Come on, we have to get out of here." 

Moving swiftly through the other room, they grabbed their still packed duffels, and the backpack Carl had left on the bed. Blair unzipped it quickly, checking its contents. The increase in his heartrate made Alex turn toward him. "What is it?"

"It's the money." He dug a bit deeper. "And the freaking nerve gas! God damn it! It's like a fucking bad penny!"

The Sentinel shook her head. "Never mind. Come on, I know where we can go." She threw her bag over her good shoulder, and headed out the balcony door, Blair right behind her with the backpack and his own stuff. He had one leg over the balcony railing when he remembered the map. Sensing her Guide's thoughts, Alex called up from where she had landed on the soft beach sand, "Forget it, Blair, we don't need it." 

Tossing his bundles down to her, Blair hung by both hands from the railing, then dropped to the ground, realizing she was right. He knew with every fiber of his being that the temple would be their sanctuary, and that they would have no trouble finding it.

* * *

Shifting her backpack higher on her shoulders, Megan Connor puffed at a sweat-soaked strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes. Her feet hurt, her back hurt, she had bug bites on her bug bites, and she still didn't understand how Ellison knew where Sandy and the Barnes woman were headed. She glared at the back of the tall, well-muscled man walking a few meters in front of her. He'd said hardly a word since they'd left the hotel, the expression on his face only growing grimmer as Captain Ortega had filled them in on what had happened earlier that day.

Seems Hettinger had planned a meet with Arguillo to turn over the nerve gas, but someone had tipped not the police, but the local militia off to the time and location. Ellison had been sure that person had been Sandy, but she wasn't so certain. Sandy working against Alex she could see, but according to Ortega, out of the three, only Hettinger had been at the drop, and he had gotten away with both the money and the gas, which hadn't been recovered. Arguillo had not been happy about that fact, and was hunting for Carl and his partners.

Now Hettinger was dead, and if one could believe Ellison's visions, Blair Sandburg had been responsible. Megan shook her head at the thought. Sandy wasn't a killer; the very idea he could take someone else's life was ludicrous, even if it was to save his own. Jim had sworn that Hettinger had shot both Blair and Alex, but no gun, or bullets had been found, just two spent cartridges, one in the hotel room, and one underneath Hettinger's body. The whole thing made about as much sense as traipsing through the jungle in search of some mythical temple.

She watched as the big detective paused again, cocking his head to the side like he was listening. All she could hear was the normal chatter of birds and small animals. She flashed back to searching Sandy's office at the university after Alex had taken him. There'd been a book lying on the desk, old, judging by the condition of the binding. "Sentinels of Paraguay" had been embossed in faded gold leaf on the cover. She'd glanced through it, reading a few brief paragraphs, enough to know that Sentinels were members of primitive tribes who had heightened senses. As Sandy was an anthropologist, she could see it fascinating him. But what did it-- Bloody hell! That's why he'd been so interested in Alex when he'd first met her at the station. She had been describing having heightened senses, the bright lights, the loud noises, her clothes irritating her skin. 

Ellison moved forward again, and she and Simon followed. Megan began to observe the detective more closely, noticing again how he seemed to be listening to the wilderness around them, how he was actually sniffing the air like a bloodhound on the scent. He'd exhibited much of the same behavior at the crime scene at the hotel, at Blair's hotel room in Cascade, and at the University, hell, at every single crime scene she'd ever worked with him. "It's a long story," Sandy had said when she'd asked him how he'd come to be hooked up with Jim. A long story about ancient tribes and a cop with heightened senses, she suspected. 

There was no way in hell she was going to let this lie. As Jim moved forward through the underbrush, she grabbed hold of Simon 's elbow and held back a few paces. "Captain, if I may ask you a question?"

Simon gazed down at the Aussie, taking advantage of the respite to remove his glasses and wipe the sweat from them with a bandana. "Go right ahead, Connor."

How to put this…Banks had to know; it was the only thing that made sense, the only reason the no nonsense captain would tolerate Sandburg's presence for four years. She decided not to beat around the bush. "Jim's a Sentinel, isn't he?"

She could see the surprise in his eyes, and for a brief moment, she knew he considered lying to her. With a sigh, he put his glasses back on. "Yes, Ellison's a Sentinel. But how did you know about that?"

Megan's laugh was a short, sharp bark. "I'm a detective, remember?" She shot a glance in Jim's direction; he didn't seem to be paying any attention to them. "Alex Barnes is a Sentinel too, isn't she? That's what this is all about, that's what it's been about from the beginning." She shook her head. "One thing I don't understand. Sandy, what's he got to do with it? Why did she take him? What use is he to her?"

Simon began walking again, and she followed. "Guess you didn't find out about guides when you found out about sentinels." She shot him a confused look. "According to Sandburg, all Sentinels had a guide, someone to help them with their senses, to keep them from zoning, which is when they focus on one sense to the exclusion of all others."

Zoning…that explained a lot. Megan realized she'd actually seen Jim zone a time or two, and watched Sandy pull him out of it. "So Sandy's a guide, and Alex took him because she needed his help? But that doesn't explain why Ellison thinks he's working with her willingly. I mean, we will find them, we will get Sandy back, but Jim's acting like he's lost his best friend for good."

Captain Banks let out a heavy sigh. "I try not to get too deeply involved in the stuff that goes on between them. There's a mystical element there I'm not really comfortable with, and I try to avoid learning about. But there's a bond between Ellison and Sandburg that's deeper than the bond between brothers. Only Jim had a fight with Blair the night Alex took him. Blair wanted to repair the damage he'd done to their friendship, only Jim wasn't ready for that. He said some things that must have hurt Sandburg very much, told him he didn't trust him, didn't need him. This Sentinel thing is Blair's whole life, more so than it's Jim's, even. Who's to say if Alex offered Blair a chance to be her guide, he wouldn't take it?" 

Megan shook her head in disgust. "That's, that's crazy, sir! Sandy has more sense than that! Alex is a violent criminal; she's been that way her whole life. Blair is a peace-loving intellectual; her way of life would be abhorrent to him!"

Shrugging, Simon replied, "Jim Ellison was one cold, hard-hearted bastard before Sandburg blew into his life. Maybe Blair thinks if he could help Jim change, he can do the same thing for Alex." The tall man lengthened his stride to catch up with the sentinel, not wanting to get too far behind.

Megan followed, turning Simon's words over in her mind.

* * *

Blair leaned against a tree trunk, his hand going to his side. "Alex," he called softly. Even though her wound was the more serious of the two, she seemed able to shrug it off and cover ground at an amazing rate. Not for the first time, he wished he had a pain dial he could turn down.

Reversing her course, she came back to his side, her hand automatically going to his forehead. "Shit, Blair, why didn't you say something before? You're burning up."

"We had to put some distance between us and Arguillo's men." They'd run into them on their way to the jungle, and had spent several tense moments trying to lose them. Succeeding somewhat, they'd headed for the temple, but Blair knew they were being followed by the way Alex kept pausing to look and listen behind them. "How much further?"

Alex frowned, and tried to peer through the dense foliage. "Another half day's walking, I think. The sensation is pretty strong. But we're not going any further tonight. It'll be dark soon, and we both need the rest. Now we just need to find some shelter." She wandered ahead a little ways, gazing up at the tall trees surrounding them. Coming to a halt underneath one, she looked back at him. "I know heights bother you, babe, but we won't be safe on the ground in our condition. Think you can make it up there?" She pointed to a section of the tree about 20 feet up, where the branches spread out and curved upward, forming kind of a nest. 

He didn't like it, but he knew any predators would see them as wounded prey if they stayed on the ground. Ten intense minutes later, they were safe in their hideaway. Resting his back against the smooth wood, he closed his eyes, trying to will the throbbing in his side away. He felt Alex's gentle hands pulling his shirt up, and loosening the bandage enough to check his wound. Wincing as she rebound it, he gasped at the flare of pain. "Sorry," she murmured, and then he felt the mouth of a canteen being pressed against his lips. "Drink." Blair did as he was told, managing a few swallows of the tepid, stale water.

Alex sat back on her calves, taking a drink herself, then screwing the cap back on the container. "How's your shoulder doing?" he asked.

"It's okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." She turned around to sit beside him, her hand reaching for his. He took it, entwining their fingers, suddenly very glad he wasn't alone. They sat there for several minutes in silence, then she said quietly, "Jim's here."

"What?" Blair could feel his heart beginning to race.

"He's here in Sierra Verde. I can feel his presence. They're a ways behind us, but they're looking for you." Alex turned her head to gaze at him, needing to see the expression on his face.

Blair bit his lip. Jim was here; he hadn't given up on him. Maybe there was still a chance, maybe-- He felt Alex's hand withdrawing from his grasp. No! He hadn't meant to hurt her. "Alex--"

She shook her head. "It's okay, Blair, really it is. I understand. In the morning, I'll--I'll just go on, and you stay here. He'll find you pretty quickly."

No, damn it, he'd made a promise; he wasn't going to break it now; he couldn't break it now. "No, Alex, you need me, and I made my decision a while ago." His own words surprised him. When had he crossed that bridge? The night he'd stayed to help her instead of escaping? That bumpy airplane flight to Sierra Verde? Or had it been that afternoon, when he had killed a man to protect her? He felt himself starting to shake. He'd killed--

"Blair?" Her arms went around him, pulling him into a careful embrace. "What is it?"

"Carl," he whispered, pressing his face into her shoulder, waves of guilt, of horror at what he'd become, washing over him, drowning him.

"Oh, babe," she breathed, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I never should have involved you in this at all. I should have left you in Cascade. I should have never brought you with me. This is all my fault, all of it." She rubbed his back, trying to calm the shudders she felt rocking him. "It was an accident, babe, an accident. It could have just as easily been you."

"It should have been me!" His voice was raw pain.

Alex pushed him back enough to look him in the eye. "No," she hissed. "Your life for his would have been a travesty. Mine for his would have been fair."

He looked at her through tear-blurred eyes, remembering her lunging in front of him, sacrificing herself for him. He knew in that instant that if she could have taken Carl's place to spare him the pain he was feeling now, she would have. Blair leaned into her embrace again, laying his head on her uninjured shoulder. "We're two of a kind, Alex. We're both seriously fucked up here."

She made herself comfortable against the tree trunk, cradling him carefully in her arms. "Yeah, but at least we're fucked up together." She brought her hand up to stroke his hair. "Try and get some sleep. We've got a long hike tomorrow."

Blair took a couple of deep breaths, feeling the tension slowly leave him as her presence, her commitment to this thing growing between them, comforted him. It wasn't long before he slept.

* * *

Jim dropped down behind the fallen log, ejecting the empty clip from his gun and jamming a fresh one in. Popping up, he squeezed off a couple shots in the general direction of the enemy and ducked again. Shit! He couldn't believe their bad luck. Somehow they must have passed Barnes and Sandburg last night, and now they were in a stand off with Arguillo's men outside the temple of the Sentinel.

He glanced at his two companions. Connor was reloading her clip, the tip of her tongue stuck out in concentration. Simon sat with his back to the huge log, his gun clasped loosely in his hand as he caught his breath. They'd be lucky to get out of this alive. Arguillo and his goons had far more firepower, and no conscience. They didn't give a damn who they killed, as long as they got their nerve gas. Jim fought down the urge to laugh hysterically. God only knew where the stupid gas was. All he really wanted now was to find his friend, his partner, his guide and get the hell out of the jungle.

The sound of a single shot, followed by a distressed cry from Arguillo's side of the clearing got his complete attention. That shot hadn't come from the three of them. That meant--Ellison peered over the top of the log, his sentinel sight tracking to where he'd heard the shot originate. There! To the west of their position, behind Arguillo's men, he could see the barrel of a semi-automatic through the bushes. The pistol cracked again, and another of the drug lord's minions slumped to the ground. Renewed by the apparent reinforcements, the three Cascade police officers resumed their battle with Arguillo's group. 

A flash of white caught Jim's peripheral vision. Alex was snaking through the underbrush, Blair behind her. They broke into the clearing, moving at a dead run toward the temple. Automatically, he drew a bead on the other sentinel, and pulled the trigger. She staggered and fell headlong, his hearing picking up her sharp gasp of pain. 

The next few seconds played out in slow motion, and would forever be branded into his memory. Blair bent down, grabbing her under the arm, pulling her to her feet. As she rose, the guide half-turned toward Ellison, the gun in his hand suddenly visible. Jim saw his friend's finger tighten on the trigger. Once, twice, three times the automatic spoke, and the sentinel dove for cover, the bullets burying themselves in the log, splinters of wood flying.

"Jim, what in the hell's going on!" Connor exclaimed from beneath him, having been shoved to the ground as he dodged the shots.

Ellison rolled off of her, breathing hard. Blair had shot at him. His best friend had just tried to kill him. Getting to his knees, he took a careful look over the fallen tree. 

Blair and Alex had reached the top of the temple's stairs. In a scene right out of Jim's vision, they joined hands, then pressed their palms against the carving of the eye. An opening appeared in the stone wall, its inky blackness impenetrable by even his enhanced sight. The Sentinel and Guide slipped through the narrow slit and it closed seamlessly behind them.

Ellison felt as though his heart had been ripped from his chest. His guide, his brother was gone, and in his place was a stranger. With that thought, his senses spiraled out of control, the sights, sounds, tastes and smells of the rainforest overwhelming him. Hands clutching his pounding head, Jim slumped to the ground, embracing the blessed darkness.

* * *

Blair came to a stop just inside the temple entrance, taking a quick look around before the door shut behind them and they were plunged into darkness. With a low moan, Alex slid down his body to rest on the floor. The guide knelt beside her, one hand on her shoulder to reassure her as he dug into his backpack with the other, coming up with a flashlight. "Hold on, Alex." Switching on the light, he turned it on her, finding her curled up on the stone floor, her face ashen. "Where does it hurt?"

"Left leg…" she gasped. "My control's shot to hell; I can't turn it down…and I think I ripped my shoulder open again."

Damn it. Blair pointed the flashlight up, locating the torch he'd caught a glimpse of when they'd entered. Praying it was still good, he lifted it down from the wall sconce, and lit it. It smoldered for a moment, then burst into flame. Attaching it to the wall again, he flipped off the flashlight, and bent over the shivering sentinel, examining her leg. Using his pocketknife, he cut her pants away from the wound, then dug the remains of the torn sheet he'd stuffed in his pack the day before out. Pouring water on a scrap of cloth, he cleaned the short but deep graze on the back of her thigh, then bound it carefully. 

He helped her sit up, talking her through turning down the pain dial. Only when she nodded she had the level down as far as it would go did he turn his attention to her shoulder. Removing the bandage there, Blair discovered she had, indeed, reopened the injury. He cleaned it, then using a fresh length of sheet bandaged it again. 

Leaning his back against the wall, Blair settled her against his chest, holding the canteen for her as she took a drink. After taking a few swallows himself, he set the water aside, and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to sort things through. He couldn't believe he'd shot at Jim. It hadn't been a conscious choice to fire the gun but an instinctual reaction, the Guide protecting the Sentinel. Even though he'd aimed to intimidate and not to injure, Jim didn't know that. He probably thought Blair had been trying to kill him. God…if Jim didn't hate him before, he probably did now.

Aw, damn it. What in the hell was going on with him? His whole life was gone, just gone. There was no way in the world he was ever getting it back. He'd broken state, federal and international law, aided a fugitive from justice, killed a man, and now he'd fired on his friends, friends who were cops. The only way he wouldn't be spending the rest of his life in prison was if he turned himself in, gave up the nerve gas, and testified against Alex. That thought nearly made him physically ill. He looked down at the sentinel. Her eyes were closed, and her head leaned against his shoulder, her hand clutching a fistful of his shirt. He couldn't do that to her; she wasn't that person anymore; she deserved a second chance. 

But what about me, a tiny voice in the back of his mind cried. Don't I deserve a second chance too? A small whimper of pain escaped Alex's lips, and Blair rubbed her back gently, guiding her through adjusting the dials once again. When he felt her relax, he knew. Alex was his second chance, his chance to get the Guide thing right. 

Closing his eyes, he rested his head against the rough stone behind him. Blair could feel the power, the energy in the ancient walls. It was calling to him, urging him to get up and follow it. He felt a smile spread across his face. He would answer the challenge, Alex and he would answer it together, but not now. What they needed most of all now was rest, and maybe some food, if he could get a trail bar down Alex. Her soft, even breaths puffed against his neck, and he pressed his cheek against her hair. Rest it was, then.

* * *

"Jim, come on, Jim, wake up." Simon leaned over his friend, shaking him gently. 

"Are you sure he wasn't hit?" Megan asked, glancing at the two men before turning her attention back to where Arguillo's men had been dug in. Had been, being the operative phrase. After Alex's surprise attack on them, the drug lord and his men had apparently decided they'd had enough and disappeared into the jungle, presumably heading back to civilization.

"I can't find any injuries, and I don't think he hit his head when he collapsed." He shook the sentinel again, lightly slapping his face. 

With a low moan, Jim opened his eyes. "Simon? What happened?" He sat up slowly, his head pounding. "Sandburg! Where's Blair?"

Banks leaned back against the tree trunk. "Inside the temple with Alex. They've been in there about 30 minutes. And you passed out after the door shut behind them."

Damn. Jim wiped his hand over his face, trying to will his headache away. "Arguillo?"

"Gone," Connor answered, sitting down next to Simon. "What's our next move, Captain?"

Shaking his head, Simon looked at Jim. "It's your call, Ellison. I'm way out of my league here."

"Don't look at me for the answers; this is more Sandburg's area than mine." The sentinel got to his feet, tentatively extending his senses. What he got back was not encouraging. Hearing seemed to be on line, but vision was not. Smell was out too, and touch was, he ran his hand over the rough bark of the tree, kind of iffy. Well, if Sandburg and Alex were in the temple, then they would just have to go in and get them.

Gesturing for them to follow him, Ellison headed for the temple, climbing the crumbling stairs slowly, his gun drawn. Connor and Banks covered him, then moved forward themselves once he'd given the all clear. Reaching the top step, Jim stared at the carving of the eye, knowing it was the key to opening the door. Hesitantly he reached out his hand, letting his fingertips lightly brush over the raised stone. Words in a strange tongue filled his mind, as did visions of primitive warriors. Yanking his hand away as if he'd been burned, he took a step back, staring up at the immense stone structure.

"Jim, you okay?" asked Simon's worried voice.

The sentinel tried to shake off the strange sensation. "No, Simon, I'm not. But I think I understand this place's purpose." 

"Enlighten us," Connor said, when Jim didn't elaborate.

Crossing to the stairs, Jim sat down, resting his head in his hands. "This is the ultimate test of Sentinel and Guide. When a pair was determined to be ready to--" he searched for the words to translate what he'd seen in his mind. "To be joined--they would come here. If they successfully passed the trials within, they would be allowed to see the eye of God." 

Simon sighed, wishing desperately for a cigar. "In English, Jim."

Ellison shrugged. "That was the closest I could come to what I saw in my mind."

"But what does it mean?" Megan asked. "Alex is a Sentinel, and Blair is a Guide, does that mean they came here to be 'joined'?"

Jim's jaw muscles clenched. "It's what the temple wants; it's why it called them."

"Then we have to stop them, Jim!" Banks said urgently.

The sentinel shook his head. "We can't."

* * *

Blair came awake with a groan. Sleeping on a cold stone floor had done nothing to ease his aches and pains. He hadn't slept too long; the torch was still burning. "Alex?"

"I'm here," she said, her voice drifting back from the shadows. "Just taking a look around." She entered the pool of light cast by the torch. "This place is…talking to me. There's some carvings over there, and I can read them!" Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

Getting to his feet, Blair took the torch and followed her to the other side of the space, glancing around with interest. The room they'd entered when the temple door opened seemed to be some kind of antechamber or waiting room. He could make out the deeper shadows of several openings in the other walls, and wondered where they led. He came to a stop in front of the wall with the engravings. The stonework was incredible; he couldn't believe the amount of detail there was in the pictograms.

"Can you read it?" she asked him. He shook his head. Taking his hand, Alex pressed it against the wall. Blair gasped as images flooded his mind. Hundreds of Sentinels and Guides had come here through the millennia, though he knew immediately that they were the first to enter the temple in a long time. It was a maze, he realized, one that could only be navigated by a sentinel/guide pair using their talents together to survive the obstacles the temple would place in their path. At the end of the maze, he could see the goal, a small room with a grotto, two pools holding the sacred water, heated by the energy of mother earth. He had to go there, they had to go there. Pulling his hand way from the warm rock, he looked at her.

Alex's expression was guarded. "Are you sure?" she said hesitantly. "Once we step through that door, there's no going back."

Taking a deep breath, Blair thought back over his life, all the years he'd spent searching for a Sentinel, his elation at finding Jim, his disappointment as that relationship had never matched his expectations, had never become what he'd imagined a Sentinel/Guide pair was capable of. He stared at the carvings again. Now he knew why. Part of it had been him; he hadn't understood what he was. And part of it had been Jim, who wouldn't admit he needed anyone else if his life depended on it. The memory of Jim's harsh words in the bullpen still stung. "…I don't need you, or anyone else…"

He felt Alex's hand rest gently on his shoulder. She needed him; that was vibrantly clear to him. He turned his head so their eyes met, bringing his hand up to cover hers. "I'm sure." The smile that lit up her face matched his own.

* * *

"What do you mean, we can't?" Connor's tone was stunned. This wasn't the Jim Ellison she knew, the one who would move heaven and earth for one Blair Sandburg.

Jim rubbed his temples; the pressure behind his eyes wasn't going away. "Only Sentinels and Guides can enter."

"That's never stopped you before," Simon responded, confused by the sudden change in the ex-army ranger.

Letting out a long sigh, Jim tried to explain what he'd absorbed when he had touched the stone eye. "The door won't open for me, because I don't--" He hesitated before voicing his worst fear. "Because I don't have a Guide. And even if I did, we still wouldn't be able to stop them. Once a Sentinel/Guide pair enters the temple, they have to pass the tests to get out. If they don't, this temple will be their grave, as it has been for so many others." He got to his feet abruptly. "We may have a long wait. I'm going to see about setting up camp." Descending the stairs, he disappeared into the jungle.

Megan stared at the stone carvings, reaching out her hand to trace the images. To her, they were just rough worn rock, and she pushed at them half-heartedly, a little disappointed when they didn't move. She turned around to face Simon. "Do you think they'll make it, sir?"

The tall man shrugged. "I don't know, Connor. Sandburg's been in worse scrapes than this, but he's always had Jim at his side. Alex is the unknown variable here." He stared out across the clearing. "And I really don't know which will be worse for Jim. To have them make it through, or to have them perish."

Megan had no answer for him.

* * *

Alex took a torch from the wall, and lit it from the one Blair carried. "So, which way do we go?" She turned around slowly, examining the five openings in the walls. She pointed out a line of carving. "This says the Guide will follow the path of power, and the Sentinel shall keep them safe."

Blair chewed his lip for a moment, contemplating the ancient riddle. "I think it means I'm supposed to know the way to go. But the 'path of power'…" He shrugged. "I don't know."

The Sentinel touched the symbol for Guide in the phrase she had read, then turned back to him. "Didn't you tell me that Chopec guy had called you a Shaman?"

Nodding, he remembered the story he had told during the interminable hours spent driving down the coast. "Yes, Incacha called me the Shaman of the great city." A twinge of regret washed over him. He was leaving everything behind. Which, he guessed, was the whole point of this place, where Sentinel and Guide ceased to be two individuals and became a single entity.

She pointed at the carving. "That can be translated as 'Shaman' as well as 'Guide'."

Shaman…shaman…they were in contact with the spirit world, weren't they? As well as the natural world…and path of power…what did they call those points in the earth? Something to do with magnetism…ley! That was it, ley lines! Lines of power in the earth itself, which shaman and other spiritualists could draw on to help them. Maybe that was what the carvings meant; maybe he was to follow the ley lines through the maze. Okay, that was as good a theory as any, except Blair had no idea what a ley line should look like. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself sink into a light meditative state, trying to attune himself to the earth around him. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw a faintly glowing vine leading from where he stood to one of the entrances. 

"Oh, wow," he breathed.

"Blair, what is it?"

"I can see the path of power. It's this way." He started toward the door.

Alex stepped in front of him. "Let me check it out. I'm supposed to keep us safe, remember?" Blair nodded and followed as she approached the opening in the wall. Placing a hand on her back, he anchored her as she extended her senses then indicated it was all clear. Taking her hand in his, they stepped into the darkness.

They spent the better part of the next twenty minutes simply walking, changing directions a number of times, always following the ley lines Blair was becoming quite proficient at reading. They paused at another intersection of two corridors to catch their breath. "How's the leg?" Blair asked.

"Stings like a son of a bitch, but I've got it dialed down." She peered intently down both hallways. "I thought there were supposed to be tests. If the gods or whoever are testing to see how easily we get bored, then I'm already there."

Blair giggled. "This kind of reminds me of a really bad game of D&D, where all we did was wander through the dungeon and never found any monsters. Come on, it's this way." He took a step out into the cross hall.

The faintest of scrapes sent Alex barreling after him, shoving him to the ground. "Shit, Alex! What the hell?" Blair had dropped the torch, but it still blazed. Glancing back over his shoulder, Blair could see a nasty array of sharp spikes occupying the space he'd been forced to vacate. "Oh…damn," he whispered. "Alex, you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just crawl out from under these things okay?" 

Blair did as he was told, getting to his feet shakily once he was beyond the trap, giving her a hand up. Picking up the torch, he said, "Guess that was a reminder, huh?"

She nodded. "Let me go first from now on, okay?"

"You won't get any arguments from me," he replied, and they headed down the stone passageway, much more carefully than before. 

Once again they wandered the small cramped corridors, a multitude of chambers and side halls beckoning, but Blair wasn't fooled. The ley line clearly marked the only safe passage, and neither he nor Alex had any desire to stray from the path, despite the interesting carvings and artifacts they glimpsed tucked away in the little rooms. It didn't hurt that along with the treasures were the bones of Sentinels and Guides who had been unable to resist the temptations. 

After the third such warning, Blair leaned against the wall just past the doorway, his face pale. "Blair?" Alex took the torch from him, and set it in one of the wall notches that were conveniently scattered throughout the temple. "You okay?" Her hand went to his forehead. "You're not running a fever anymore."

He looked into her concerned eyes. "What if we die here? I mean, what have we got that these other pairs didn't? We've only been working together for…" he counted on his fingers, "six days." He jerked his head in the direction of the room. "They probably had years together before they came here, and yet they failed. I mean, I really don't have anything to go back to, but I'm not ready to die yet."

Brushing his tangled curls out of his face, Alex moved closer to him. "I'm not ready to die yet, either. And I trust you to lead us out of here." The grim expression on Blair's face changed to shocked surprise. "Ever since that night in the motel room, since the moment you discovered what you are, what we are together, I've put my trust in you. I've given up everything I am, the life I used to lead, the things I used to want, to follow you. And if that means wandering through an old temple dodging danger and looking for the eye of god, well, then, that's what I'm going to do."

Blair had trouble swallowing past the lump in his throat. She thought that much of him? She was putting her life in his hands, his shaking hands. "I…I don't know what to say, Alex. I…no one's ever really believed in me before."

Tilting her head down, she leaned her forehead against his. "I believe in you. Now you gonna lead us out of here, or are we just gonna stand here the rest of our lives?" Taking a step back, she held out her hand to him. Grasping it with his own, he lifted the torch down, centered himself, and started down the hallway, the ley line clearly visible in his mind's eye.

A few minutes later, they came to the end of the line. The hallway they were following dead-ended at a chasm so wide Blair couldn't see the other side. He peered carefully over the edge. He couldn't see the bottom either. His heart pounding, he backed up rapidly. 

"What's the matter?" Alex followed him.

"What do you mean 'what's the matter'? Didn't you see the great big hole there?" He tried to keep from hyperventilating. "Heights, why did it have to be heights?"

She glanced behind her, then turned back to him, her expression puzzled. "What hole?"

Blair looked past her. The pit was still there. "There's a great big hole in the floor; it's so wide I can't see across."

Frowning in confusion, Alex said, "Blair, there's no hole there. The hallway just goes on a little ways, and then there's a doorway at the end." His expression told her he wasn't convinced. "Look, I'll walk down there and show you it's okay."

"No! Alex!" He lunged after her, but was too late. She walked past the edge of the chasm and…nothing happened. 

Turning around to face him, she said, "See? There's nothing to be afraid of. It's perfectly safe."

Blair shuddered. She was standing on thin air. "Huh uh. I'm not going out there."

She held out her hand to him. "Blair, which way does the path lead? Toward me?" He checked, then nodded slowly. "Then you have to trust me. Give me your hand."

He took a small step forward. If you believe you'll be okay, you'll be okay. Don't look down. He reached out toward her, feeling her strong fingers wrap around his. Closing his eyes, he stepped off into space…and didn't fall. Keeping his eyes squeezed tightly shut, he followed her, a death-grip on her hand.

Finally he felt her come to a stop. "You can open your eyes now."

Blair did as he was told, gasping as he realized where they were. They'd made it, they were in the grotto. Turning around slowly, he took in the two pools of water, the markings on the wall, and several shelves carved into the stone, each one holding a number of sealed jars and urns. Taking the torch from him, Alex lit the other ones scattered around the room. When she came to the wall with the inscription, she stopped to read it, then turned back to him. "This is the ritual, the rite of joining."

He moved to stand beside her. "I know." And he did. It was as if walking into the room had awakened memories he didn't know he had. Walking over to the jars, he began selecting certain ones, along with some empty clay bowls. Alex followed him, choosing containers from a different shelf. There was silence between them for nearly half an hour as each of them bent to their tasks, Alex opening bottle after bottle, sniffing and tasting the contents carefully before she measured them out, mixing the ingredients with water she drew from the pool. 

Blair, too, mixed the powders he found in the urns with water, filling several bowls with brightly colored paint. When he finished, he leaned over one of the pools, using the reflection in the water to draw the markings of a shaman on his face. Stripping out of his dirty, sweaty clothes, he continued to paint the mystical symbols on his skin, until he was covered in the twisting, curling runes.

Moving to Alex's side, Blair began to work on her, words from a forgotten language falling from his tongue. Using his fingers as a paintbrush, he drew the stripes of a warrior on her face, and the symbol of her spirit animal, the jaguar, on her back. She returned the favor, outlining a wolf in blue paint over his spine. Together they finished the job, covering her body with the markings of the Sentinels. 

Raising the bowl containing the drink she had created, they chanted, asking the ancient ones for strength, for wisdom, for belief and trust. Blair held the bowl as she drank, and she did the same for him. They moved apart then, sliding into the warm embrace of the water, the two pools symbolizing the separate paths they had to travel before becoming one.

Blair relaxed in the water, feeling his spirit float free of his body, and with a rush, he was traveling back through his life. Moments from his childhood flashed before him, turning rapidly into his college years. The images didn't slow until he came to Jim. He saw the big detective slamming him against the wall, then just as quickly, he was shoving the sentinel to the ground as a garbage truck roared by overhead. On and on the memories raced, the good equaling the bad, but never overcoming it, the scales forever remaining static. And then there was Alex…his excitement at finding another Sentinel, his despair at discovering she was a criminal. The night he'd discovered his own calling was followed by her declaration of earlier that day, of giving up everything she was for the promise of a new life with him. He knew without a doubt the next vision was of the future. He was walking on a beach with Alex, his arm around her waist, and they were laughing together. She pressed his hand to her stomach, and he felt the flutters of another life growing within. The scene shifted to a hospital, and he held their daughter in his arms, handing her carefully to an exhausted, but smiling Alex.

His spirit re-entered his body then, and he gulped in air, flailing for one panicked moment in the pool. Awareness of where and when he was returned to him, and he clung to the stone ledge, turning his anxious gaze on Alex. She, too, started as she came back to herself, and splashed water out of the pool. 

Her blue eyes met his, and she crawled out of the pool, kneeling on the stone path between them, waiting as he did the same. She held her hands out to him and he grasped them with his own, palms touching, fingers interlocking. 

_Wolf running through the jungle, toward a spotted jaguar. Both animals leaping into the air, colliding, combining in a burst of brilliant light, the eye of god._

When the light faded, Blair was back in the temple, in front of his Sentinel, knowing that their joining went far deeper than their clasped hands. "Alex…"

"Drea," she corrected automatically.

Blair smiled at her. A new name for a new beginning. Cradling her face in his hands, he leaned forward, his lips on hers sealing their commitment with a promise of the future.

* * *

Blair awoke slowly, silently cataloging the sensations he was feeling before he opened his eyes. He was comfortably warm, and the rush-covered ground beneath his body, though not as soft as he would have liked, was tolerable. He stretched, slightly surprised when his injured side didn't protest, then he remembered one of the unexpected side effects of the joining had been healing. Both his and Alex's wounds had vanished the instant they had joined hands. Alex--no, Drea, he thought, and his arm tightened instinctively around the body curled up next to him.

She made a contented little noise, and moved closer to him, her cheek rubbing against his shoulder. Blair opened his eyes, taking in the still burning torches, the twin pools of water, and the remains of their paint and drink mixtures. They would have to clean up before they left, he thought. He gazed at her, a mixture of emotions flowing through him at the sight of her vulnerable, naked body, the lines of paint smeared and blurred by their time in the water, and their exertions of the night, if it had been night, before. 

He would have been content to lie there a while longer, but his stomach growled, and he realized he couldn't remember the last time they'd eaten. Rolling onto his side, he leaned over her, nuzzling her cheek before whispering in her ear. "Drea, wake up. We need to get going."

"Mmmm…" She turned onto her back, opening her eyes to find her mouth inches from his. A hand in his tangled mass of hair tugged him down toward her, and she brushed her lips lightly against his, nibbling, tasting, teasing her Guide, feeling him respond to her touch. His hand traced lightly down her side, over her hip, and up the back of her thigh. With a long sigh, she moved away from him, to the pile of clothes she'd discarded the night before, and began getting dressed. 

He followed her, pulling his own things on, then rinsing out the bowls they'd used and placing them, and the jars of ingredients, back on the shelves. Snuffing all but one of the torches, he joined her at the room's only door. "I wonder if it will take as long to get to the exit as it did to get here."

Drea shrugged, then stepped through the opening, with Blair right behind her. She came to a stop so suddenly he ran into her back. "This is too weird," he finally managed, gazing around the room. It was the antechamber, the place they'd started on their journey. Everything was just as they'd left it, their backpacks leaning against the far wall. 

"This whole trip has been strange," she said, shouldering her pack, and handing his to him. "I really wanna get out of here." 

Blair stuck the torch in the holder he'd taken it from when they had first entered the temple, then, joining hands with her, they pressed their palms against the small eye symbol scratched into the wall. The door slid open silently, and they walked into the gray shadows of a predawn morning.

* * *

Simon Banks shivered slightly, and pulled the lightweight blanket closer around him. Whoever said the jungle was hot obviously had never spent the night there. Yawning, he stared at the remains of the fire, wondering how long it was until dawn. He must have dozed off, because when he opened his eyes again, he knew he was dreaming.

Two warriors stood in the center of the camp, both of them nearly the same height, but there the resemblance ended. One had light hair, pulled back tightly in a braid, his--no, her, face tiger striped. She appeared to be standing lookout, as the other one set something down close to where Jim still slept. The second warrior was dark where the other was light, his long hair hanging loose, framing a face painted in a vaguely lupine design. 

Their images were blurry without his glasses, and Simon blinked, trying to focus more clearly. When he opened his eyes again, the warriors were gone, but he glimpsed a patch of gold and black fur, and a streak of silver disappearing into the trees. Again he blinked, and this time his eyes remained closed, as he dropped back into a heavy sleep.

* * *

Jim Ellison was dreaming. He was running through the jungle, chasing after something, some animal that stayed just a few steps ahead of him. Breaking out of the underbrush, he entered a clearing, the temple of the Sentinels rising ominously from the center of the glade. Notching an arrow to his bow, he proceeded cautiously, the hair on the back of his neck raising.

The figure of a wolf appeared at the top of the temple steps. Jim expected it to run at the sight of the Sentinel, but the wolf simply sat on his haunches and waited as Jim climbed the stairs. 

A few steps away from the animal, Ellison stopped, laying down his weapon, and holding out his hand in supplication. The wolf whined sharply in its throat, then rose to its feet, shaking its head slowly. Turning its back on Jim, it walked away, vanishing into the forest. A few seconds later, the wolf's keening howl split the air, followed by the coughing scream of a jaguar. And for the first time in nearly four years, James Ellison was truly alone.

* * *

He awoke with a gasp, his heart racing. Automatically, he reached out with his senses, searching for the stimulus that had disturbed his rest. Within seconds he knew what had changed; his Sentinel abilities were gone.

Ellison sat up slowly, his movements knocking over a backpack sitting on the ground next to him. Reaching for it, he pulled it into his lap, unzipping the bag. Inside was the container of nerve gas. Leaping to his feet, he scanned the area, but found no trace of his friend, his partner, his…No, Blair was no longer his guide. He belonged to Alex now.

Stumbling to a fallen log, he sat down heavily, leaning his head in his hands. Blair was gone, truly gone. Nothing Jim could do, nothing he could say, no apology was going to bring him back. And with his disappearance, Jim had gotten what he'd always said he'd wanted. He was just like everyone else now, he was normal.

Somehow, that hardly seemed like a fair trade. He sat there for a long time, watching the sun rise over the forest through tear-blurred eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Rainier University, Museum of Anthropology, Present Day**

Drea's anxious eyes peered up at Blair and she struggled to take a breath. Oh, god, he was terrified. Get a hold of yourself, man! Do your job, take care of your Sentinel. "Drea, honey, I know you're scared right now, but we have to get things under control. I know it's hard to breathe, but I need you to relax. Just listen to the sound of my voice, focus on me, and then turn the dials down, turn the pain down." He felt her body begin to unwind under his hands and her shaking eased. "That's it, that's it, stay cool."

He watched her throat move as she swallowed, then she whispered, "Pack... "

Pack? What? Damn! His backpack-- if he was caught with it-- He shot a glance at Ellison, who was still dead to the world from the fist Blair had slammed into his face. He surveyed the area, looking for any place he could ditch the pack, and not have the cops find it. Think, Blair, think! You spent enough years here--steam tunnels! 

Yanking off his knit cap, he pressed it to Drea's chest wound, placing her hands over it. "Hold that there, sweetheart. I'll be right back." Getting to his feet, he ran the few yards to the closest tunnel vent. Despite his shaking hands, he'd picked the lock and dropped the pack inside in a matter of seconds. Then, wiping off his black face paint with the bottom of his shirt, he returned to her side in time to watch a couple unmarked police cars and an ambulance pull into the museum's back parking lot. "Over here!" he yelled.

Forced out of the way as the paramedics began treating her, Blair got slowly to his feet, chanting a protection prayer softly, pausing only to answer the EMTs questions. Movement by Ellison caught his eye, and he saw the detective sit up, aided by a couple of the cops, Rafe and Brown it looked like. Another cop car pulled up, and Blair turned his attention to it, seeing the familiar figure of Simon Banks unwind from driver's seat. Aw, fuck, this was gonna be bad.

Captain Banks strode purposefully across the lawn, pausing to look down at the medics working on Drea, but he showed no sign of recognition. His gaze traveled up again, alighting on Blair. He blinked, once, twice, then said, "Blair? Blair Sandburg? It can't be--you're dead."

Forcing himself to breathe, Blair said, "Sorry to disappoint you, Simon."

The captain shook his head, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Then his cop face fell back into place, and he was all business. "What in the hell happened here? Did you call this in, Sandburg?"

"Yes. Ellison shot her." 

A new voice entered the conversation. "Sir, that's Alex Barnes." Jim moved between the two men, and Blair unconsciously clenched his fists.

"She was unarmed, man! She didn't do a damn thing to you!" He barely kept a lid on his rage, but he knew his body language was telegraphing volumes.

Ellison swiveled to face the Guide. "You were robbing the museum. She was your accomplice."

"That's bullshit!" Blair spat, getting in Ellison's face. "I found you lying on the sidewalk unconscious. I was trying to help you when you grabbed me, and she told you to let me go. And you shot her! No warning, no nothing, just blam! If she dies-- " He didn't finish the threat.

Brown trotted up at that tense moment. "Captain, Rafe and I checked out the museum. There are two unconscious guards in there, and the alarm's been bypassed. Looks like Jim may have interrupted a robbery in progress." 

All eyes turned toward Blair. "I'm not saying another word. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going with Drea to the hospital." He started to follow the stretcher across the yard to the ambulance, but he didn't get far. Jim's hand grabbed him around the bicep, and Blair reacted, releasing his pent-up fury in one solid punch to the stomach. The sentinel doubled over, and Blair felt himself being shoved to the ground, Brown and Rafe wrestling the handcuffs on him, then giving him a cursory pat-down. 

Yanked roughly to his feet, the Guide stood silently between the two detectives as Captain Banks barked out orders. "I'll take him downtown. Brown, get on the horn, get forensics out here, and IA. I want this whole area gone over with a fine-toothed comb. No screw-ups!" He turned his glare on Ellison. "Enough's been screwed up already. You realize what this means, don't you? If you fucked up again, Ellison, it just won't be suspension this time. You'll be out on your ass." He moved in closer to the silent detective, and hissed, "Do I need to make you take a breathalyzer test?" Blair's eyes widened at Banks' comments, but he kept quiet. Obviously things had drastically changed for Jim in the year he had been gone.

"No, sir. I'm clean, sir, have been for three months. You know that." Ellison's jaw muscles were working overtime.

"Fine. You stay here and wait for IA. I know they're gonna want your story first thing. Rafe, give me a hand with Sandburg." They walked him to the car, sticking him in the backseat. Simon climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

As soon as he pulled out, Blair started talking to cover up what he was doing. "Simon, man, please. You gotta take me to the hospital. I'll do whatever you ask, behave myself, anything, but you gotta drive me to the hospital." He straightened slightly in the seat, working one of his hidden picks out of the seam of his pants pocket. 

Simon glanced at Blair's reflection in the rearview mirror, the neatly trimmed goatee and mustache throwing him slightly. "I can't do that, Blair. You know why. There are still charges pending against you from when you helped Alex smuggle the nerve gas out of the country. Plus whatever we come up with from the museum."

"Damn it, Simon. We returned the freaking gas, and we weren't doing anything at the museum! Jim shot her for no reason. I could lose both Drea and my daughter while you're dicking around with me at the station." He felt one side of the cuffs release and went to work on the other. "Have a heart, man!"

"Alex is pregnant with your daughter?" The shock was plain in the older man's voice.

"Yes, damn it, and getting shot sent her into labor." The other cuff unlocked, and he changed position a little, his gaze intent on the handle of the service weapon he could see poking out of Simon's belt holster between the two front seats. 

Banks' attention shifted for a brief second as he looked both ways before proceeding through a stop sign. Leaning forward, Blair smoothly lifted the gun with his right hand as his left arm went around the larger man's throat. The sound of the safety being clicked off echoed in the sudden silence. Pressing the muzzle of the automatic to the captain's temple, Blair said softly, "Drive me to the hospital, Simon."

Banks couldn't believe this was happening. The man holding a gun to his head was not the Blair Sandburg he knew. That man had never been capable of the anger, of the violence that he'd shown tonight, or maybe he'd just never had a good enough reason for them before. "Blair," he began, "think about what you're doing... "

"Damn it, Simon, you are not going to talk me out of this! Either drive me to the hospital, or I will shoot you and drive myself. Is that understood?"

Simon met Blair's eyes in the rearview mirror. The pain he saw there knotted his stomach. This was a man whose entire world was on its way to Cascade General, and nothing else mattered but his being there too. He made a left at the next intersection and headed for the hospital, feeling the Guide's grip on his neck ease slightly. "Thank you," Blair said.

When they had reached the hospital, and Simon had pulled into a parking space and shut off the car, Blair released his hold long enough to give him the handcuffs. "Put the cuff around your left hand, then run it through the handle over the door, and cuff your right hand." The captain did as he was told, cursing the day he'd bought the luxury sedan with the strap just above the doorframe for extra support when getting in or out of the car. With his hands shackled in that position, he couldn't reach anything. Not the door handle, the window controls or the horn. 

Blair slid out of the car, reaching over Banks to hit the auto door locks, then he tossed the gun on the floor of the back seat and shut the door. He headed for the emergency room entrance without a backward glance.

* * *

Dr. Ramona Twofeathers felt her pager vibrating at her waist, and she glanced down to see she was wanted in ER. A quick phone call confirmed it. A pregnant woman with a gunshot wound to the chest had just been brought in, already in the first stages of labor. The obstetrics resident headed for the elevator.

When she got off at the ground floor, one of the nurses yelled at her "Room 5", and she headed in that direction, noticing as she passed the desk a black-clad man glancing her way. She met his gaze, taking in the lines of worry around his blue eyes, his dark beard and ponytail, and-- She let out a startled gasp, then headed behind the curtain, feeling his eyes on her back. Though she had only a small portion of the talent herself, which was why she had gone into the white man's medicine instead of tribal, she could see it in others. The man in the waiting room was a Shaman, a very powerful one. 

Shaking off the strange sensation the man had given her, she turned her attention to her patient. "Okay, what have we got?"

Thirty minutes later, the patient, whose name she'd found out was Drea, was stable, and the baby wasn't in too much distress at the moment. Drea had been asking for someone named Blair, and Ramona had the feeling he would turn out to be the man she had seen in the lobby. Exiting the examining room, she asked, "Is there a Blair Sanborn here?"

The Shaman approached her. "I'm Blair Sanborn. How's Drea?"

"I'm Dr. Twofeathers, the obstetrician. I'll be working on her alongside Dr. Manners, our surgeon. What we are looking at right now is--" 

Ramona never got to finish her sentence as four large men came barreling through the emergency room doors and made a beeline for Mr. Sanborn. One of them yelled "Sandburg!" just before they jumped him, shoving him to the floor. The Shaman fought like a wildcat, kicking, punching, biting; one of the men, dressed in a designer suit, staggered back, holding his nose, blood running from underneath his cupped hand. After several painful minutes, their sheer weight pinned Blair solidly to the ground, and she watched in shock as they yanked both his arms behind his back and snapped handcuffs on him. 

Looking up at them from under the dogpile, his eyes pleading and tearful, he managed to gasp, "Simon, Jim, please. I wasn't hurting anyone. All I want is to see Drea-- please, please let me see my wife!"

They moved away from him then, as if they were stunned by his words, and the tall white man with close-cropped dark hair jerked the smaller man to his feet. He stared down at him for a long moment, and the Shaman met his gaze defiantly. Finally the tall man said, his voice oozing disgust, "How could you marry that bitch?" 

The younger man rocked back as if he'd been struck. Then he shook his head sadly. "If you can't figure that out, Jim, then you still don't understand what I am, what you and Drea are."

Jim's hands bunched into fists, and the muscles along his jaw tightened. Then shoving Blair in the tall black man's direction and turning his back on him, he stalked out of the ER.

* * *

Ellison pushed through the hospital doors, prowling across the parking lot, rage burning inside him. Coming to a stop at his truck, he slammed his fist down on the hood. Damn it! Blair was alive! He should be rejoicing, he should be happy--and all he felt was cheated-- betrayed.

Alex still had her claws in him. God, he was married to her! And a child on the way....The unexpected wave of guilt set him to shaking, and he leaned heavily against the side of the Ford. An innocent child could die because of his rash actions. How could he have screwed up so badly again?

The year since Blair's disappearance had been disastrous for Jim. Looking back on it now, he could see that was when his trouble had all started. He'd managed to lead Banks and Connor out of the jungle after he'd lost his senses; he hadn't needed them for that. Once they'd made it back to what passed for civilization in Sierra Verde, he'd gone looking for answers, but hadn't found any. Sandburg and Barnes had vanished into thin air. Reluctantly, he'd returned to Cascade at his captain's urging, but had continued to search for them, using his contacts in both the military and law enforcement to try and pick up their trail. But Alex had been too clever for him, she had covered their tracks well, and the five million they'd stolen from Arguillo was enough to ensure they remained hidden for a long time.

Jim hadn't given up though, he'd made a couple trips back to Sierra Verde and the surrounding area, showing their photos, asking if anyone had seen them. He'd found out a couple fitting their description had left the country by private plane a few days after he, Simon and Megan had returned to Cascade. From there the trail had grown stone cold. Until the day Simon called him into his office, nearly three months after the pair's disappearance.

The Brazilian government had contacted him after all other channels to locate any relatives of Blair Sandburg had failed. A badly decomposed body had been found in the rainforest outside Rio de Janeiro. Blair's passport had been in the man's pocket. The cause of death had been a gunshot to the head. 

The news had hit Jim like a freight train. Only Simon's hand under his arm had kept him from collapsing to the floor. As it was, the older man had driven him home, and stayed with him long enough to reassure himself that Ellison wasn't going to do anything stupid. For a couple hours after Simon had left, Jim tried to convince himself that it was a mistake, that it couldn't have been Blair. But in a sick, perverted way, it made sense. When Blair was no longer an asset to her, Alex had gotten rid of him, as coldly and ruthlessly as she had tried to kill Jim. There was no doubt in his mind that she was capable of killing the kind-hearted anthropologist without a second thought. Blair probably had never known what hit him, or at least that's what Jim hoped. 

After he'd come to the logical conclusion that Sandburg had met the "death by misadventure" it had stated on the papers faxed from Brazil, he'd gone to the cabinet, gotten out a bottle of tequila, and proceeded to drink himself into a stupor. And there he had remained, for the better part of six months. Nothing mattered anymore, not his career, not his family, not his friends. All of that had been tied irrevocably to Blair. He'd begun screwing up left and right; nothing was as important as numbing the raw wound inside him, the loss of his soul. He'd built up the walls Blair had so carelessly bulldozed through, shutting even Simon out. The only emotion he allowed to show anymore was rage, and he was indiscriminate in choosing his victims. More often than not, it was a friend he turned on, though he'd vented his wrath on a good number of perps too. And that had gotten him suspended twice, both times for excessive force, and the second time he had been intoxicated while on duty.

He didn't bother to deny he had a drinking problem; he just didn't care. Once again, he'd been called on the carpet by Simon, who had been trying hard to be understanding, to give Jim space, to give him time to deal with Sandburg's death, but Jim's "I don't give a shit" attitude was making it difficult for him to remember the man Jim had once been. Simon had been reading him the riot act, as usual, when Jim had just snapped. He'd stuck his friend, his superior officer, and that had nearly cost him his career. But it had been a wake up call; he'd finally heard the warning bell, and realized he needed to turn his life around. 

It had been hard, probably the most difficult thing he'd ever done in his life, because it involved taking a really good look at himself, at figuring out why he did the things he did. It involved therapy, and mandatory AA meetings, both places where he had to expose his inner self to other people, something he had always been uncomfortable with. An Ellison was strong, he didn't show vulnerability, or weakness; if he was hurt, better he should suffer in silence than admit he needed help. 

But Jim had thought he'd finally gotten through Blair's death, through the guilt, through the blame he rested on his own shoulders. If only he'd been able to forgive him, if only he'd gone to the university, if only he'd ever let Blair think there would be a chance for forgiveness if he'd ever screwed up about anything. Maybe then he wouldn't have been so easily swayed to Alex's side. None of that mattered now, Blair was dead, and as much as Jim wanted to take the blame, it was simply wasted energy. It wouldn't help Blair, and it would destroy him. So he'd given it up, and forgiven himself, or so he'd thought. 

And just when he'd reached that point, when he was sober for more than two days in a row, the dreams had begun. Always he was in the jungle, dressed as the warrior he had been when he lived among the Chopec. He was tracking an animal, a jaguar he had determined from the tracks, but he never could seem to catch up with it. 

Until almost three weeks ago. He had gone to bed as usual, and dreamed once again of following the big cat's trail. Only this time, he tracked it to its lair. Ducking his head, he entered the small cave, and suddenly his senses were back. He could see clearly in the darkness, could hear the panther's steady heartbeat and heavy breathing. Rounding a bend in the tunnel, he found the cat, only it wasn't his spirit guide, it wasn't the black jaguar. It was the spotted one, Alex's spirit animal. He expected her to growl, to scream, to leap at him. Instead, the jaguar made a low, soft mewling sound, and rose awkwardly to her feet, her heavy belly nearly scraping the ground. She turned around in the nest of grasses she had made for herself, then settled down again, panting heavily, her blue eyes regarding him with no hint of malice. Drawing back the string of his bow, Jim let the arrow fly, straight toward the spotted jaguar's heart. The dream had ended then, and when he awoke the next morning, his Sentinel senses were back online.

Try as he might, Jim had been unable to interpret the dream. But now, after the events of tonight, it was all too clear. The signs had been there, the warnings, and once more he had failed to heed them. Now Blair's child could pay the price for Jim's mistake. 

Letting out a long, shuddering sigh, Jim slid down the side of the truck, coming to rest on his knees on the asphalt. God, he wanted a drink, wanted to lose himself in liquid oblivion, so he wouldn't have to face the consequences of what he had done. If Blair hadn't hated him before, he did now. And Jim's words to him in the ER had only driven them further apart. Nothing he could do, nothing he could say would make things right between them if Alex and his child died. 

The Sentinel buried his face in his hands. There was only one thing he could do. Never a very religious man, for the first time in years, Jim Ellison prayed, not for himself, but for the brother whose family he'd harmed with both words and actions.

* * *

Blair watched Ellison's retreating back until the doors closed and blocked his view. Shaking his head with a soft sigh, he turned to the woman who had been a silent witness to the outbreak of violence in the ER waiting room. "Dr. Twofeathers, can I please see my wife?"

"Sandburg, in case you don't get it, you're under arrest," Simon growled.

The obstetrician straightened to her full 5'4" and glared at the police captain. "I don't know who in the hell you are, mister, but this man's wife is about to undergo emergency surgery. I need to speak with him about her care, and I would think even people as cold-hearted as the bunch of you would let him see her, just in case... " Her voice trailed off as she realized what she had been about to say.

The silence was broken by the sound of Blair swallowing loudly. "I need to see Drea."

"Of course, right this way, Mr. Sanborn." Ramona put a guiding hand on his shoulder and led the handcuffed man into the examining room. 

Blair went immediately to his Sentinel's side, bending to press his lips to her forehead. "How are you doing, honey?"

Drea's hand came up to touch his face, feeling the rapidly darkening bruise on his cheek. "What did they do to you, babe? I tried to come help you but they wouldn't let me get up." She glared at the medical personnel scattered around the room. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine. But Dr. Twofeathers was just going to explain what they need to do to help you." He straightened up, his now free hand reaching for Drea's, the unlocked cuff dangling from his wrist. "Doctor?"

Ramona blinked, then shook her head. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. The instant the Shaman had touched his wife's hand her whole aura had changed, glowing brighter, as if his presence energized her. She had heard of such couples, but had never seen one herself, a Shaman/Warrior pair bond. When this was over, when his wife and child were okay, she would love to have a long talk with Blair Sanborn.

"Dr. Twofeathers? Is Drea going to be all right? Is our daughter going to be okay?"

She shook herself. "Uh, yes, well, as you know, Mrs. Sanborn suffered a gunshot wound to the upper right chest quadrant, resulting in a partially collapsed lung, which we've treated by inserting a chest tube. The bullet is still lodged in her chest, and she will require surgery to remove it and repair the damage. Unfortunately, the trauma of the injury has sent her into labor."

As if to emphasize her point, Drea's hand tightened around Blair's and she let out a little gasp. He leaned over her again, stroking her forehead, speaking to her so softly that Ramona couldn't make out the words. Whatever he had said to her worked, though, she breathed through the pain, and relaxed again as the contraction passed.

The doctor cleared her throat, bringing the couple's attention back to her. "As I was saying, Mrs. Sanborn is in the early stages of labor. What we'd like to do is take the baby now, by c-section, and then remove the bullet. Even though she's stable right now, the longer labor goes on, the more risk there is to her and your child."

Blair felt the knot in his stomach rise to his throat. He couldn't lose them. "Doctor, can I have a moment alone with her?"

Nodding, Ramona slipped out of the room, followed by the rest of the technicians. Blair leaned over Drea again. "I'm sorry. I know this wasn't what we planned." It was too soon; she hadn't been due for another two weeks. That should have been plenty of time for them to complete their task in Cascade, and return to their home in Costa Rica. Their daughter should be born in the safe, comfortable surroundings they'd prepared, not within the harsh, sterile walls of Cascade General.

"It's okay, it's okay, babe," she answered him, sensing his thoughts. "Mica's a lot like me, she's impatient; she wants out now. It'll be fine, Blair, really it will."

"I-- they probably won't allow me to be with you, and I have to be there. " He couldn't even to begin to imagine the shock the infant would feel, being ripped from her mother's safe womb and thrust into the bright lights and loud sounds of an operating room. At that moment she would need his talents the most. His thoughts were interrupted by the return of the doctor.

"Have you reached a decision?" she asked.

Blair nodded, as he clasped his partner's hand tightly. "Yes, go ahead with the c-section. Only, I have to be present." At the woman's raised eyebrow, he hastily said, "I know that's not normal procedure, but well, we're not normal. We, uh, our religious beliefs, um--I need to be there, to bless the child, at the moment of birth, so she doesn't go through life with permanently bad karma. " Well, that was a lousy explanation.

Dr. Twofeathers stared at the two of them for a moment, then said, "I don't have a problem with that, Shaman, but you'll have to sign a waiver releasing the hospital from all responsibility if something untoward should happen due to your presence."

"Sure, fine... what did you call me?"

Ramona smiled at him. "What you are. Shaman, bound to a Warrior." She nodded in Drea's direction. "My tribe has legends about your kind, though many years have passed since such a pair has been born. I understand completely your concern for your child. A child of such a union is rare, and even rarer if they possess the best of both parents, which I can see from your expression, you know she does." At his startled look, she added, "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

A long sigh of relief escaped his lips. "Thank you, Doctor. Now what do we need to do?"

"Mrs. Sanborn is going to be prepped for surgery, and you need to sign the paperwork, and scrub up." Blair kissed Drea tenderly before following the obstetrician out of the room. They entered the outer area to find Simon, Rafe and Brown impatiently waiting. Rafe had taken the time to get treated; a bandage covered his nose, and he held an ice pack to his darkening eye.

"All right, Sandburg," Simon snapped, "you've seen your wife, now it's time you headed downtown." He glared at him as he noticed the thief was once again free of the handcuffs.

Panic clutched at Blair. He couldn't go now, he couldn't. "Simon, please, I have to be there for Drea, for our daughter. Dr. Twofeathers has agreed to let me be with Drea when Mica is born." He leaned closer to the tall man, lowering his voice so that only he could hear. "She's a sentinel, like her mother. A Guide has to be there, I have to be there," he pleaded fervently. He stepped back, gazing up at Banks, his eyes hopeful.

Simon rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Damn it, why did these kinds of decisions always fall to him? And Jim was off somewhere sulking... He looked back at the younger man, recognizing in his eyes the thoughts and emotions he'd felt years ago when Daryl was being born. He couldn't really arrest him for the attempted museum robbery until forensics connected Blair to the crime, and the warrant from the theft of the nerve gas, that was federal. And maybe, maybe if he let him have this time, if he allowed him this privilege, Blair would think twice before filing a civil suit against the PD and Jim Ellison. "Fine, Sandburg, you can be with her. But as soon as she's out of surgery, you have an appointment in booking. No funny stuff, understand? We're going to be right outside the OR."

The guide gave him a mock salute, the dangling handcuff nearly hitting him in the eye. "Give me that," Simon growled, using his key to remove it. He watched as Blair followed one of the nurses to get suited up. Turning around, he found his two detectives shaking their heads at him. "I don't want to hear it," he admonished. "Keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't get it into his head to wander off, not that I think he would. She's too important to him." 

"Where are you going, sir?" Rafe asked.

"To find Ellison before he does something else he's gonna regret." With those words, he headed out of the ER in search of his friend.

Outside the hospital doors, Simon paused to pull a cigar from his pocket, bit off the end, and lit it. Taking a couple soothing puffs to calm his frazzled nerves, he went looking for Jim. He found him a few minutes later, kneeling next to his pickup, his head bowed. "Jim? You okay?"

He heard the sentinel take a long shaky breath, then he lifted his head to look up at the other man, his eyes glistening. "How is she?" he asked hoarsely.

Banks shrugged. "As well as can be expected, I guess. They're doing a c-section on her now."

"Oh, god," Jim whispered, his head dropping again. "This is my fault."

Simon squatted next to his friend, his hand going to his shoulder. "Jim, you have to believe she's going to be all right, that the baby's going to be all right."

"That's what I'm praying for."

"Look, I know you went over this with the officers at the scene, but can you tell me what happened? What in the world were you doing at the museum in the first place?"

Getting to his feet slowly, Jim leaned his back against the truck. "I had a dream. I dreamed I saw the spotted jaguar, Alex's spirit animal, at the museum, so I went there. One of the guards there used to be on the force, and he let me in to look around. That's the last thing I remember until I woke up outside, and Blair was leaning over me. I couldn't believe it was him, Simon. I grabbed his arm, and then I heard her voice. I don't know what I was thinking, I don't even know if I thought it was real, or if I was dreaming. All I knew was she had taken Blair away from me once, and I wasn't going to let her do it again. So I shot her."

The captain nearly bit through his cigar. "I hope that's not what you told the officers on the scene. God forbid IA should ever hear that story."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Jim hunched his shoulders. "I didn't know what else to tell them, Simon. And once this gets out, even if Blair doesn't sue the department, I don't think I'll be long for this job anyway. I've fucked up way too many times this year. I've used up all my second chances. And you know what really bothers me? It's that because of me, Alex and Blair got caught. If she lives, they may both end up going to prison, and who's going to raise their child then?" He closed his eyes. "Prison will kill Blair."

"Jim, Blair made the choices that brought him to this point by himself. He didn't have to go with Alex, maybe at first he didn't have a choice, but we both saw what happened in the jungle. That was not a man who was trying to escape a kidnapper. You are not responsible for this."

"Are you sure of that? I was the one who sent him away, told him I didn't need him, didn't want him around. You were there, you asked me if I could do the Sentinel thing all by myself. You were right, I couldn't. But by the time I figured that out, it was too late." He turned to face his superior. "But what if it's the same for Blair? What if he needed a sentinel as much as I needed a guide? What if that's why he helped Alex, why he didn't escape?"

Taking off his glasses, Simon rubbed his temple. He needed an aspirin. "That's just great, Jim. That'll make a really good defense for both of you. Sorry, your honor, I helped her steal that nerve gas because my instincts told me to. Sorry, I shot an unarmed suspect, but it was programmed into my genes." He snorted. "I don't think the world's ready for that idea. I know I'm not."

Jim shook his head. "I know one thing. No matter what happens, Alex, Blair, and I are all screwed." 

The other man had no answer to that. He simply smoked his cigar, and kept his friend company while Jim contemplated his fate.

* * *

Blair finished changing into surgical scrubs, and followed the nurse who had accompanied him to surgery. He entered the room hesitantly, uncertain of what he would find within. To his relief, he saw Dr. Twofeathers already standing by her patient, another surgeon beside her. Drea was lying on the operating table, her stomach covered in antibacterial wash. Blair tried not to visualize what was about to happen. He really didn't want to watch them cut into his wife, even if it did mean saving their daughter.

"Mr. Sanborn," Ramona said, "why don't you go stand up by your wife's head. We've given her a local anethesthetic, and a pre-surgery sedative, so she's going to be very groggy. Once we get your daughter out, we'll put her completely under, and Dr. Manners here will take over."

Nodding he understood, Blair moved to Drea's side, rubbing her cheek gently, whispering to her softly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the obstetrician making the incisions, and very quickly she was holding his child in her hands. After her nose and mouth were suctioned out, Mica began to wail. "Hear that, Drea," he said to the sentinel, "that's our baby, our little girl."

Drea's eyes began to slide shut. "Mica... Blair, love you, babe... " she managed to say, before she was completely out.

"Mr. Sanborn, would you like to hold your daughter?" 

Turning his attention away from her unconscious mother, he held out his arms, and the small, screaming bundle was handed to him. He held her close to his chest, hoping the steady rhythm of a Guide's heart would calm her. Almost immediately, her crying ceased, and her tiny eyes opened, her wide blue orbs staring into his own as he leaned over her, shielding her from the strong light overhead. "Welcome to the world, Mica," he breathed for her ears alone, then as he looked up, he saw he had slipped into a vision. 

The jungle surrounded him as he stood atop the temple of the Sentinel, painted and garbed as a Shaman, his child in his arms, the golden jaguar sprawled in exhaustion on the steps behind him. Lifting the babe to the heavens, he presented her to the universe, asking for blessings from the four elements of earth, wind, fire and water, as well as the sun, moon, and stars. His prayer finished, the Shaman returned to the physical world to find Dr. Twofeathers staring at him, a look of amazement on her face.

The nurse gently took Mica from his arms and carried her off to be thoroughly checked over then sent to the nursery. The surgical team had surrounded Drea, and was preparing to go to work. Dr. Twofeathers gently grasped his arm and guided him out of the operating room. "Go up to the surgery waiting area and I'll come up to talk to you as soon as I finish here."

Nodding numbly, Blair watched her re-enter the OR, then turned to find Simon standing behind him. "Congratulations, Sandburg, you're a father." He felt the other man grasping his hand and shaking it firmly.

"Thanks, Simon," he finally managed, trying to keep his knees from buckling under him.

"Come on, kid, I'll take you out front." Seeing Blair's distress, Simon grabbed him by the elbow and led him to the waiting room, stopping long enough for him to discard the scrubs in a hamper.

Rafe and Brown were already in the room when the guide and the police captain entered. Frowning, Simon glanced around for Ellison. He raised an eyebrow at Brown who responded with "He's off somewhere pacing."

Leading Blair to a couch and pushing him into it, Simon asked, "You want anything to eat, drink, coffee, tea?"

Blair leaned his head against the back of the sofa, feeling exhaustion beginning to over take him. "Some tea, maybe."

Simon snapped his fingers, and Brown headed off in search of the requested item. "Anything else you need?"

Shaking his head, he replied, "No, just some quiet." Drawing his legs up onto the cushion, he sat cross-legged; closing his eyes and concentrating on his breathing, he sent himself into a light trance, needing the peace and solace to renew his strength.

As he settled into his meditation, Blair could feel the connection with his Sentinel. It was a bond that had begun to form the moment Alex had discovered she couldn't kill him at the fountain. It had grown over the week they had been on the run, finally being solidly forged by the joining ceremony at the temple in Sierra Verde. In the year that had passed since then, it had only become deeper and broader encompassing everything he was, everything she was, and the discovery of the child growing within her, had only been an added bonus. He liked to think of their bond like a tapestry, which began as individual threads on a loom, then through the passage of time and the talent of skilled weavers had turned into a beautiful, strong piece of cloth. And the wonderful thing was, it was continuing to evolve and change with every day.

A smile crossed his lips as he remembered the first frantic days after their journey to the temple. They had headed into the jungle after leaving the nerve gas in the hands of the sleeping Cascade PD officers. Surviving on what they could scrounge, they finally made it out, having crossed the border into a neighboring country. From there they had hired a plane to take them to Brazil, simply because it was Carnival time, and neither of them had been to it before. The money they'd taken from Carl had been transferred into several offshore accounts, and they had spent a couple weeks just enjoying Rio de Janeiro, getting to know each other, and planning their future together.

It had felt right to stay in Central America, and the choice of Costa Rica as their new home had been an easy one. The small country was known for its political stability, excellent health care and education systems, and boasted a large number of national parks and protected areas, as well as both Pacific and Atlantic coast beaches. All in all, a country in which a Sentinel and Guide could thrive and feel comfortable raising a family. 

They bought a beautiful villa on the Pacific coast, in a small town an hour or so from the country's capital, and had settled down in their new identities of Blair and Drea Sanborn, an anthropological researcher and his artist wife. It had been Blair's idea to get married; he knew she needed the commitment from him to that part of their lives, and there was the added benefit that if their past ever caught up to them, neither could be forced to testify against the other. The ceremony had taken place on the beach in front of their home, as the sun was beginning to set over the water, and had been performed by the Shaman of the local tribe. Instead of rings, they had exchanged pendants made by Drea. They were silver and turquoise, and when joined together, formed the eye of god symbol from the temple.

The next six weeks had been spent exploring their new world, and each other. But, he had to admit, both their quick, inquisitive minds were beginning to stagnate in the quiet, lazy village, and when Drea called him to the front door one afternoon, he had welcomed the thought of visitors. What Blair hadn't expected was a native tribal chieftain, accompanied by four warriors, a shaman, and a translator, all dressed in ceremonial finery. After introductions had been made, and their guests made comfortable, they discovered they had come seeking the help of the Sentinel and the Guide. 

Ten years ago, an archaeological expedition had come to the region of the jungle where the tribe was from, and excavated an ancient burial site. One of the items taken had been the burial urn of an ancient and powerful shamaness, whose bones were said to bestow fertility on her tribe. The urn had gone to museum in the US, and in the years since it had been gone, no children had been born in the small village, and the natives were in danger of dying out. One night, the village shaman had a vision of the Sentinel and Guide and knew they were the answer to the natives' prayers. The small party had followed his vision to Blair and Drea's doorstep. 

After hearing their story, Blair and Drea spent the next day finding out all they could about the urn. The tribe had tried having the government petition the museum to return the bones, but their request had been languishing in the bureaucrats' hands for the past five years. Blair hadn't been quite sure how they were going to help their new friends, but Drea had known. They would steal the urn and return it to its rightful owners. 

Once they had seriously begun researching the job, they discovered it would be fairly easy. The urn containing the shamaness' bones was moldering in storage at the museum. It had simply been a matter of breaking into the museum, and labeling the crate holding the artifact with the proper address. They'd then moved it to join a large shipment of relics going out the next day, and changed the computer manifest to reflect the extra item. 

Thus had begun their life as antiquities thieves. After their first success, other tribes had come forward, asking for their help. Blair had been uncertain at first, as to whether or not he would be any good at it, but under Drea's expert tutelage he had learned just about everything there was to know about breaking and entering. And their Sentinel/Guide abilities had made them an unbeatable team. They had successfully completed four jobs, and the theft at Rainier was to have been their last, at least until after Mica had been born. 

With a sigh, Blair came out of his trance, opening his eyes to find both Dr. Twofeathers and Dr. Manners entering the waiting room. Getting quickly to his feet, he crossed the small space toward them. "How is she? Is Drea going to be all right?"

"Well," Dr. Twofeathers began, "she came through the c-section just fine. Your daughter is also very healthy. We have her up in the nursery right now, and will keep her there until your wife is able to see her."

Dr. Manners picked up where the obstetrician had left off. "Mr. Sanborn, your wife was a very lucky woman. As you know, the bullet nicked the top of her lung, but amazingly, that's pretty much all the serious damage it did. We've repaired the tissue damage, and baring any complications, she should be out of here in a week or so."

Blair let out the breath he'd been holding, relief making him giddy. "When can I see her?"

"She's in recovery right now, and will probably be there for a couple hours. Once she's moved to a private room, you're welcome to see her."

Grasping Dr. Manners' hand, Blair shook it heartily. "Thank you, thank you so much!" The man nodded, then headed out of the room. "And thank you, Dr. Twofeathers. I know you bent the rules to allow me to be there when my daughter was born. And speaking of Mica, there're a couple things I need to tell you." 

Blair glanced over his shoulder at Captain Banks. "Simon, you wanna come with us? Keep me in custody, so to speak?" 

The tall man nodded, then followed the Native American physician and the Guide up to maternity, listening to Blair instruct the doctor on the care and feeding of a baby sentinel. They got off the elevator, and headed toward the nursery, as Blair was cautioning the doctor to be on the lookout for allergic reactions to just about everything, if the list he was rattling off was any indication. 

Simon stood outside the nursery window as Blair was taken inside and helped into a smock, then given a seat in a rocking chair, and a nurse handed his daughter to him. The young man's face lit up as he cradled her in the crook of his arm, bending down to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead, whispering softly to her. Once again Banks was reminded of his love for his own child. Pulling out a handkerchief, he removed his glasses and began cleaning them. 

Feeling a presence at his shoulder, Simon turned to find Jim Ellison standing there, his gaze fixed on the guide and his daughter. "Thought you were going to go file your report."

Ellison shrugged. "I couldn't go. I had to know if I--if they were all right." 

The taller man laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "They're both going to be fine according to the doctors."

Letting out a sight of relief, Jim said, "I'm glad. I don't know if I could live with myself, knowing my mistake had cost them their lives." His jaw clenched, then released. "Though now I know they're okay, I'm left with a lot of questions. Like why in the hell Blair and Alex came back to Cascade in the first place. And what were they doing at the museum if not robbing it?"

"I don't know, Jim, but I promise I will find out." Simon turned a determined gaze on Sandburg, watching as the man's head lifted for a second, his eyes widening slightly as he caught sight through the glass of the Sentinel standing beside him. 

Blair cuddled Mica for a long moment, then passed her to the waiting nurse and rose from his seat. Stripping off the scrubs, he exited the nursery and crossed to the two police officers, his expression dark. His hand came up and he jabbed a forefinger at Ellison. "Stay the hell way from my wife and daughter!"

Stepping between the two men, Banks said, "That's enough, Sandburg. It's time for that little trip downtown. Think you can manage to behave yourself that long?"

The smaller man continued to glare at Jim for a few heartbeats, then nodded. He didn't resist when Simon put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle push toward the elevator.

* * *

Blair drummed his fingertips on the table impatiently. It had taken only 30 minutes in booking, but since then, he'd been cooling his heels in one of the interrogation rooms waiting on Simon. He glanced at his reflection in the two-way mirror again, taking in the tired, bloodshot eyes, dark beard stubble, and lines of exhaustion on his face. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, then raked his fingers through his tangled hair. He needed a shower, some food, and about a week's worth of sleep, not necessarily in that order.

Shoving his chair back, he got to his feet, prowling the small room like a caged animal. He knew exactly what they were doing, leaving him alone like this, wanting him to worry, wanting him to sweat. Well, he would give them a show. He crossed the room again, feeling his lip curl back in a snarl. This wasn't his home anymore, and the cops were no longer his friends. Especially Jim. He stared at the mirror again, knowing the Sentinel was behind it, feeling his eyes on him. 

Damn you, Jim! Why in the hell did you have to get involved in this? It was supposed to be a simple job, easy enough for Blair to handle alone, and he would have, if Jim hadn't interfered. The mask would have been theirs, and they would have been on the next flight out of Cascade. Now he didn't know if he would ever get to take Drea and Mica home. God, the thought of Drea having to go back to jail terrified him. The strain of trying to control her senses without him in that kind of environment would break her, could drive her insane. 

He sank back into the hard wooden chair, laying his arms on the table and leaning his forehead against them. They were screwed... unless... his mind began to race back over the case the PD had created against Alex over a year ago. They really hadn't had much to go on other than the fact the tape from the security company break in had showed the thief reacting like a sentinel to the alarm. No evidence had been left at any of the scenes, they'd never found the gun she'd shot the guard with, and the hair found on the fire escape could have been left at any time. They couldn't prove the nerve gas had ever been in their hands either. About the only thing they had to worry about was Hettinger's death, and that had occurred in Sierra Verde, and had been an accident. 

Blair felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and gave into it. He'd had nightmares for weeks about that whole incident, and each time he'd woken drenched in sweat and shaking, uncertain of where he was and whether or not he was still dreaming, Drea had been there, her arms wrapped around him, reassuring him that it had been an accident, that Carl's death hadn't been his fault. Hot tears stung his eyes, and he blinked them back, glad his face was hidden in his arms. He knew they would try to use any sign of weakness on his part against him. If they thought he was just going to cave in and confess, they had another thing coming. He was going to get them out of this; they were going to go home and raise their child together.

At the sound of the door opening, Blair lifted his head to see Simon entering the room. The captain took a seat across from the Guide and slid a bottle of water over to him. He unscrewed the cap, taking a long drink before setting it back down. "When can I get out of here, Simon? You don't have anything to hold me with."

Banks sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Try assault on a police officer, Sandburg."

Blair's eyes darted to the two-way mirror. "He shot my wife! How the hell was I supposed to know he wasn't going to do it again if I didn't stop him?"

"On me."

Blair snorted. "Like a jury isn't going to sympathize with the traumatized husband and father."

"Obviously you're no longer intimidated by me."

The smaller man flicked a grin at him. "Obviously. You wanna ask me questions, go right ahead. I reserve the right not to answer them if I don't want to." His smile broadened. "But I'm not a cruel man, I know there's some things you're dying to ask me. Off the record, since we're alone in here, with the exception of Ellison behind the glass there, and the absence of a tape recorder. So go ahead, ask."

Shaking his head, Banks said, "You're not the same person you were a year ago."

"Of course not. I've been through a hell of a lot; I've grown up. I have a family to look after, to think about." Blair folded his hands in front of him, his gaze still fixed on the mirror. Are you getting all this Jim? Will you understand if I spell it out for you?

"That's what I don't understand, Sandburg. How could you just take off with Barnes like that? You knew she'd done time, that she was a criminal."

Blair chewed the inside of his lip, considering his answer. Finally he said, "She needed me, and I needed her. She was a Sentinel without a Guide, and I was a Guide without a Sentinel. It was the only thing that made sense in all that madness. I'm not saying I didn't seriously think about what I was doing, but I made the only choice I could. This Guide thing, it's genetic too, just as much as the Sentinel thing is. I spent most of my life searching for a Sentinel, thinking it was to satisfy my intellectual curiosity, when in reality it was a search for my purpose, my reason for being." 

"So what was that whole thing in Sierra Verde then? Shooting at Jim and holing up in the temple for two days?" Simon leaned forward in his chair.

"That was--" Blair searched for the right words. "The shooting thing, that was me protecting my partner. And the temple? That was the most profound, enlightening experience of my life. It changed me completely, both inside and out. It really brought home to me the fact there is another world out there, a spiritual plane. I know things now about being a Guide, being a Shaman, that I never would have figured out on my own. Like you said, I'm not the same person any more. After what I've been through, there's no way I could be."

Simon's head was pounding, but he continued. "One last question, what were you doing at the museum last night?"

"Taking a walk. The weather was nice; we felt like some exercise. We just happened to pick the campus; safer than the parks, you know." Blair took another drink of water. "Are we through now? I need to get back to the hospital. Unless you're planning on charging me with something?"

Shaking his head, Simon got to his feet. "No, not at this time, Sandburg. Just don't get any crazy ideas about leaving town."

Blair stood up and headed for the exit. "Really, Simon, what kind of a husband do you think I am?" Twisting the handle and opening the door, he left the room.

* * *

Ellison stood in the small cubicle off the interrogation room, facing the two-way mirror, his arms folded across his chest, his teeth clenched, watching his former partner pacing like a pissed off wolf. Every so often, he would turn and face the mirror, staring right at the spot where Jim stood, as if he knew he was being watched. This time as he turned, his hair flying, his lip curled back in what Jim could only call a snarl. For an instant, the image of a huge, angry wolf overlaid the features of the Guide. Startled, the sentinel took a step back.

Just as quickly as the wolf had appeared, it was gone. Shaking his head, Jim turned his attention back to Blair, watching as he pulled out the chair and sat down at the table, laying his head on his folded arms. Stretching out with his hearing, Jim could pickup up Blair's quick, shallow breaths, and his slightly elevated heartrate. The sentinel wasn't surprised at the physical signs of stress after what the younger man had been through that night. Without warning, Blair's heartrate shot through the roof. Ellison started for the door, but then Captain Banks entered the interrogation room, and Blair raised his head from his arms.

The change in him was immediate. He went from seemingly vulnerable to cynical in a split second. Jim listened to the conversation for a few seconds, thinking back over the case, or lack there of, against Sandburg. Damn it! If only he could remember what happened at the museum, then they might have something to hold him with. The assault charges wouldn't stand up in court; Blair was acting in response to a perceived threat to his family. His family. Jim suppressed a shudder. It was very hard for him to picture Blair and Alex, or Drea, or whatever the hell her name was, together, married even. Somehow he had never envisioned Blair as being the marrying kind; he'd always seemed to be having too much fun playing the field to settle down with one woman. And since when had cold-blooded killers been his type anyway?

Simon must have been reading Jim's mind. He asked Sandburg why he ran off with the female sentinel. Blair's answer rocked the detective to the core. "She needed me, and I needed her. She was a Sentinel without a Guide, and I was a Guide without a Sentinel... " The rest of his reply was lost as memories of that fateful night in the bullpen played back in Jim's mind, his words taking on a new significance. 

Blair had been trying to apologize, he knew that now.

_The anthropologist cornered the detective as he was putting on his jacket. "Look, Jim, I just wanted you to know that I realize I was wrong for not telling you about Alex." The next words were difficult for him, and he kept his eyes to the side, to the floor, anywhere but on Jim's face. "I was only thinking about myself, about my work, and somewhere along the line I lost track of my friend."_

_For once Ellison opened up, laying his feelings on the line, not realizing how deeply his words would wound the other man. "Chief, I don't know what you want me to say. I don't know if I can get past this. To me, it was a real breach of trust. And that struck really deep with me."_

_Blair's next words were almost angry. "Give me a break here. How was I supposed to know she was a criminal?"_

_Jim tried to be patient. "Chief, this isn't about her being a criminal. I gotta have a partner I can trust. Have you ever stopped to think about what good all this research is doing any way?"_

_Again Blair was on the defensive. "Yeah, Jim, I think about it every day." His tone softened slightly. "I mean, for one thing, it's helped you find out who you are..."_

_Ellison cut him off irritatedly. Did he have to spell it out for him? "Wait, whoa, whoa, whoa. I know who I am, okay? I don't need you or anyone else to help me define that. Is that clear?" The pain in Blair's eyes was too much, and he glanced to the right, determined to finish what he had to say. "Maybe it's just better if you finish your diss or doctorate writing about somebody else." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the anthropologist's look of stunned disbelief._

_Recovering quickly, Blair blurted out, "That's crazy. I know I made a mistake, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get past this." Sensing there was nothing he could do to sway the sentinel, he continued quietly, "But if, if you've got to hang on to it... " He left the next move in Jim's hands. "You know where to find me."_

_Jim couldn't meet his eyes, staring at the floor as Blair turned and walked away. Finally, he lifted his head, his gaze following the smaller man's slumped shoulders as he walked out the door._

With his inaction, his stubborn refusal to go after Blair and make things right, Jim had sealed both their fates. Blair was wrong when he said he'd made the only choice he could. Jim had taken that choice away from him. 

Now the man who had been his best friend was lying to his captain to protect the woman Jim had shoved him toward. Oh, his heart beat at a normal pace, and his words and mannerisms were calm and matter of fact, but Jim knew he'd been inside that museum, that he was no stranger to breaking and entering. Everything Blair was now, Jim had made him. He hung his head, his eyes closed, regretting now more than ever the words he had spoken over a year ago. He had been wrong then. He did need Blair, had always needed him, not just to help him with his senses, but to help him save his soul. So lost was he in his own painful regret, he never noticed when Blair rose and left the room.

* * *

Fear. There should be fear... and pain. But for some reason, there wasn't. Only a warm, pleasantly fuzzy feeling, like the buzz from a couple glasses of wine. But she couldn't remember drinking any wine, not in a long time. Automatically, she stretched out her senses as he had taught her, and the immediate antiseptic smell identified her surroundings as a hospital. That would explain the fuzziness, she must be on some kind of drugs. Hearing confirmed the hospital setting, and alerted her to his presence, his familiar heartbeat encouraging her to open her eyes, to gaze upon that beautiful face. 

Drea forced her eyes open slowly, waiting for the painful light that never came. The room was in shadow, the blinds at the window closed against the sun, and the overhead light off. A smile crossed her face; he was always thinking of her. Looking to the side, she located him, seated in a chair to her left, leaning forward so that his arms rested on the edge of the bed. His head was pillowed on his hands, his loose hair obscuring his face. She moved her hand to rest lightly on the back of his head, the silky curls sliding between her fingers. Blair slept on, undisturbed.

Out of all the things that had happened to her in her life, nothing amazed her more than this, than waking up to find him beside her. She knew she had done nothing to deserve this, to deserve his care, his friendship, his love, at least at first. Her worst nightmare, the one that woke her screaming in the middle of the night, always came back to that moment at the fountain. Each time she shoved him into the water, holding his head under until he ceased to struggle and his thundering heartbeat faded away, leaving her alone in the dark with the knowledge of what she had done. But he was always there when she clawed her way out of the dream, his arms around her, cradling her head against his chest so the first thing she heard was the strong, constant beating of his heart, letting her know it wasn't real, that he was alive, and he would never leave her. 

It was then she noticed the absence of the second heart, the one she knew as well as his. It frightened her for a moment, until she ranged out further with her senses and found it a couple rooms away, tiny, but steady. Mica. Their daughter was okay. Overcome with an immediate need to hold her, to see her face for the first time, Drea tugged at one of Blair's curls. 

"Hmm, what? I'm awake, I'm awake!" He raised his head, bloodshot blue eyes set in an exhausted face gazing at her. "Oh, you're awake." He rose slowly, wincing as his cramped muscles protested. Leaning over her, he kissed her forehead tenderly, then at her small pout, he pressed his lips to hers, the intimate caress reaffirming their bond. Finally pulling away, Blair carefully took a seat on the edge of the bed, his hand immediately covering hers, feeling her fingers grip his. 

"I want to see Mica; I need to see Mica," she told him.

"Okay, I'll go get her in a second. First, how are you feeling? You in any pain? Thirsty?"

Drea shook her head. "Babe, I'm fine, or I will be, once I see our daughter."

A broad grin split Blair's face. "Okay, okay, I'm going." 

He returned a few minutes later, a blanket wrapped bundle in his arms and a bottle in his hand. Placing the bottle on the bedside table, he sat down on the side of the bed again, carefully laying Mica against the uninjured side of Drea's chest, and she wrapped her good arm around her. Blair moved the corner of the blanket aside, and his wife got her first look at their child.

"Oh, my," she finally whispered. "She's beautiful." She glanced up at him, her radiant smile undimmed by the tears in her eyes. "She has your eyes, and your curls."

Blair grinned back at her, one long finger running over the dark cap of hair on Mica's head. "That's funny, I thought she had your eyes." 

Drea shook her head, and despite the twinge of pain that shot through her chest, she raised her right hand to stroke her husband's cheek. "She's going to be her father's daughter, in more ways than just her looks. She's a Guide."

His eyes widening in surprise, Blair said, "You can tell that?" Drea nodded. "That's really... weird. When I held her last night, and just now, I could swear she was a Sentinel... " His musings were interrupted by a whimper that turned into a wail. "Oops! They were just going to feed her when I went to get her." Picking up the bottle, he held it for his daughter, who began to drink eagerly. 

Drea watched their little miracle for a few moments, then realized there were some things she didn't know about what had happened the night before. "Babe, after they took me to surgery, what happened to you? Did they let you stay here?"

Nodding, he answered, "Yeah, until you were out of danger. Then Simon took me down to the station, booked and questioned me." At her worried expression, he said, "It's okay. He didn't have anything to hold me with, and they don't have enough evidence to make a case against you for last night, or last year. As soon as you are well enough to travel, we are out of here." He leaned over, surprising her with a passionate kiss. When they came up for air, he looked down at Mica. "Which reminds me, I need to see about getting her a passport."

"There'll be plenty of time for that, Blair. What I want you to do after Mica's finished eating is to go get some rest."

"I feel like I should stay here with you."

"Babe, I'm fine; Mica's fine. You are almost asleep on your feet, probably haven't eaten anything since dinner yesterday, and, you could do with a shower, too." She wrinkled her nose at him.

"Okay, but if Simon or anyone from the station comes around, you aren't answering any questions without myself or a lawyer present." Blair waved a stern finger at her.

"Got it. Now could you... ?" She nodded towards Mica. "I'm really starting to hurt."

Blair took her from Drea. "I'll go see if they can give you anything for the pain, and take her back to the nursery. You'll be okay, right?"

"I told you, I'm fine. Just a little achy, that's all."

Giving her a kiss on the cheek, Blair took their child and left the room, unaware that Sentinel ears had been listening to their entire conversation.

* * *

It took him two days to work up the courage to see her. Even then he got off the elevator on the maternity floor and found a dozen excuses to dawdle. He used the payphone to check his voice mail, checked in at the station, got a cup of bitter coffee from the vending machine. He wandered down to the nursery, gazing through the glass at the babies in their bassinets, wondering not for the first time what it would be like to have a child of his own. He focused his attention on Blair's daughter, taking in the wide blue eyes that regarded their surroundings calmly. They met his briefly, and the intelligence peering back at him startled Jim, a chill running down his spine. 

Turning away, he bumped into Dr. Twofeathers. "Quite an amazing child, isn't she?"

Jim stared down at the small woman, wondering where he had seen her before, and then he remembered her from the emergency room. "You're the doctor that delivered her, right?"

"That's right. Jim, isn't it?" At his nod, she continued, "I'm not so sure Mr. Sanborn would approve of your presence here, seeing as you are responsible for his wife's condition."

"I... uh... it was an accident. I never meant to hurt her." That wasn't the exact truth, at the moment he'd pulled the trigger, he'd wanted nothing more than to blast Alex out of existence. But seeing what his actions had done to Blair, he regretted even having had the thought, let alone acting on it. 

The obstetrician gave him a suspicious look. "Just don't cause any trouble for my patient, okay? She's not in any shape to go tooth and nail with you now."

Jim nodded, and the doctor left, leaving him to wonder what she knew about territoriality among Sentinels.

Finally he could find no other excuses to avoid what he'd come to the hospital to do. Still, he hesitated outside the door of her room, and would have turned away if she had not said for his ears only, "Took you long enough to get here, Ellison."

Flushing slightly, he moved into the doorway to Drea's room, finding her propped up in bed, her complexion still a little pale, her gesture for him to enter accompanied by a slight grimace. He came to stand beside the bed, meeting her eyes for a brief second, then looking at the floor. "I..um... I came to apologize, for what happened the other night, for shooting you. I never meant to put your child in any danger... if I had known... "

"It's all right, Jim, I forgive you. You couldn't have known, you couldn't have known any of it." She smiled at him. "Have a seat."

Pulling the chair a little closer to the bed, he sat down stiffly. "Couldn't have known what? That you were pregnant? That doesn't excuse what I did."

Drea shook her head. "You couldn't have known I wasn't the same person who tried to kill you a year ago. You couldn't have known he changed me. Hell, sometimes I can't believe it myself, but I know it's true. Alex, and all her anger, was left behind in the temple, when... " Her voice trailed off at the stricken look on Jim's face. "I'm sorry. Me talking about that must be very painful for you."

Shaking his head, Jim looked out the window. "It's just been a really bad year for me. Starting with you running off with Blair, then thinking you'd killed him, to the other night."

"What? What do you mean you thought I'd killed Blair? How could you even consider such a thing? The Sentinel can't harm the Guide; that's the most basic rule, Ellison. Blair's my life, my world... "

He turned his eyes back to her. "Alex... Drea, calm down. A decomposed body was found in the Brazilian jungle with Blair's passport on it. Whoever this person was, he'd been killed execution style by a bullet to the head. I didn't know what else to think at the time, but now I'm starting to wonder if the two of you didn't plan it that way."

"Blair's passport was stolen when we were in Rio." She suddenly realized what he was hinting at, and her hand came up to her mouth in shock. "Are you accusing us of killing some innocent person to make you think Blair was dead? Didn't you hear what I just said? I'm not that person any longer. I haven't been since the day Blair chose to go with me, to be my Guide. And Blair would never kill anyone!"

Jim folded his arms across his chest. "Just like he didn't kill Carl Hettinger?" he said softly.

Drea closed her eyes for a moment, trying to compose herself, but when she opened them again, Jim could clearly see her agony. "It was an accident," she said hoarsely. "Carl shot me; Blair was trying to stop him from killing us both. They fell down the stairs. It was an accident!" Her fingers clenched at the blanket. "Blair still has nightmares about it. He feels guilty enough as it is; he doesn't need you to add to it by accusing him of murder."

Her eyes were flashing as she finished, and Jim had the feeling that if she hadn't been recovering from surgery, she would have had him shoved up against the wall, Sentinel protecting the Guide. "I'm sorry, Drea. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that on the surface that's what it looked like."

Shaking her head, she said, "You still don't get it, do you? No, of course you don't or you wouldn't have pushed him away in the first place." She sat up a little further. "Over there in the closet, can you get my purse?" 

Rising, Jim crossed the room and retrieved the bag. Handing it to her, he sat back down, watching as she dug through the contents, finally unzipping an inside pocket and withdrawing a worn and creased envelope. "Here." She handed it to him, and he could see his name and address on the outside, along with a stamp. "Blair wrote this letter on the way to Sierra Verde. He was going to mail it to you when we stopped to refuel, but he-- he decided it would probably hurt more than it would help. He threw it away and I fished it out of the trash. I've hung on to it ever since. I have to admit I read it and it... well, it made me realize how much he gave up to help me. I spend every day trying to make sure he doesn't regret that decision." She wiped at her eyes. "I think you should go now. Blair should be back soon, and he'll go through the roof if he finds you in here. He can be pretty overprotective."

Jim got to his feet, shoving the letter in his pocket. "Drea--" he started.

"I know, but I'm glad you came by. I wanted to let you know I don't blame you for what happened, that I forgive you. It may take some time, but I'm sure Blair will forgive you too. Mica's fine, I'll be fine, and he'll see it for what it was, an accident." She gave him a small smile.

"I, um, you take care of yourself, and Blair, okay?" He had to force the words past the lump in his throat.

"I will, Jim, I promise."

Giving her a nod, Jim turned and left the room. Hearing Blair's voice in the hallway, he reversed directions, and took the stairs. He didn't read the letter until he returned to the loft.

* * *

"Hey, baby," Blair said in way of greeting as he bounced into the room. "How are you doing?"

He gave her a lingering kiss before he dropped into the chair next to the bed. He waved a sheaf of paper at her. "I got it." Giving her a grin, he handed her the papers.

She flipped through them, nodding her approval. "These are the steam tunnels, right?"

"Uh huh." The guide then rose from the chair to sit on the bed next to her. "I was right. I can get into the museum without ever being above ground. It'll take a little longer, since I'll want to enter the tunnels pretty far away, in case anyone spots me. But once I'm in, I'll pick up my pack from where I left it, get in, get the mask and get out. We'll be home free, and I can concentrate on you and Mica." He leaned closer to his wife, nuzzling her neck. "I also stuck Mica's passport application in the mail. If they rush it back like I asked, we should have it in a couple weeks, and we can go home."

"Mmm," Drea laid her head on Blair's shoulder. "That sounds really nice. I'm looking forward to lying on the beach and just enjoying our daughter." 

"Me, too." He leaned against the pillows, and she moved gingerly into the curve of his arm. "How's the pain?"

"Fine. I've been able to keep it dialed down, so they're cutting back on my painkillers. That stuff just knocks me out." 

Picking up the photocopies, Blair began to talk through the plan with her, letting her guide him in visualizing each step. When they'd gone through it enough times that she was satisfied he wouldn't make any mistakes, she set the papers aside and curled up next to him, sliding her arm around his waist. They rested in comfortable silence for a few minutes, then Drea said, "Jim came to see me today." She felt Blair tense, and she began to rub his stomach.

"What in the hell did he want?" he growled.

Her hand moved up to rest on his chest. "He wanted to apologize. He really regrets what happened."

Blair snorted. "I'll bet. And what did you tell him?"

She kissed his cheek gently. "I told him I forgave him."

He turned his head to stare at her. Her blue eyes gazed back, a tentative smile on her lips. "You are... amazing," he finally said. "Every time I think I finally know you, you do something like this and surprise the hell out of me." He pressed a kiss on the top of her head.

She settled down next to him again, her arm tightening around him in a hug. "You taught me everything I know about forgiveness, babe. The least I could do was pass a little of that on to him." 

"I hope you're not thinking I'm going to follow in your footsteps, Drea. I don't think I'm ready to forgive him yet. You could have died; Mica could have died. And there's a lot of other unresolved stuff between Jim and me, stuff that has nothing to do with what happened the other night."

"I know that, and so does he. I just want you to keep an open mind, okay? He was your friend once, your best friend, and if there's a chance of getting any of that back, then you should do whatever it takes." 

Blair stared at her, not believing the words coming out of her mouth. "How can you say that? Aren't you afraid? Afraid that if I try to make things right with Jim that I'll leave you behind?"

Drea blinked at him as if the idea had never crossed her mind. "No, I'm not afraid. You're my Guide, my lover, my husband. I have nothing to fear from Jim, or from you. You won't hurt me, you can't hurt me." 

Blair hugged her closer, letting her confidence, her belief, strengthen him. Maybe she was right. Maybe there was some way he could get past his anger and talk to Jim, at least explain the way things were to him. And maybe, just maybe he could help Jim find a Guide of his own. But not now. The wound, the hurt was still too fresh. He pressed his cheek against his wife's silky hair. "I'll think about it, Drea, but I can't make you any promises."

"That's all I ask," she replied. "Now isn't it about time for Mica to be fed?"

Giving her a grin, Blair rose to go get her.

* * *

Entering the loft, Jim dropped his keys in the basket and,taking the envelope out of his pocket, he laid it on the kitchen table. Going to the fridge, he grabbed a beer, twisted the cap off, and took a long drink. Turning around, he leaned against the counter, his gaze going immediately to the wrinkled envelope. After a few minutes of staring, he crossed to the table, and pulling out a chair, sat down. 

He continued to regard the envelope while finishing the beer, his heightened vision taking in the minute variances in the letters of his name on the outside, as if the writer's hand had been shaking. With a long sigh, he set the beer bottle down, and picked up the envelope, opening the loose flap and sliding the folded sheets of paper out. He unfolded them carefully, smoothing the creases out, taking in the familiar handwriting of his former partner without really seeing the words.

He read through it slowly, his finger underlining the sentences. The first half was a summary of Alex's life, written, he suspected, to point out to Jim the similarities between the two Sentinels, so that he would feel a connection to her. And he had to admit it was moving, not so much the matter of fact way Blair had put it down, but what was written between the lines. He could clearly see the two of them in some hotel room, Blair gently coaxing the painful story out of her, encouraging her when it became too difficult, consoling her when she cried. A couple lines further down, he felt his heart stop.

_But as she told me, "It was kind of comforting, because that's where I came from, that's what I understood. I didn't do too well in those families that talked about love. I mean, what's there to love about me?" I started bawling then, just listening to her talk about herself that way. I'm trying to help her, I really am, but I think it might take a lifetime to make her see that she really is worth loving._

It had happened that quickly. Three days was all it had taken for him to connect with her. It had taken three years for Jim to begin to feel comfortable talking about himself to Sandburg. And even then he hadn't been able to trust him with the kind of deep, intimate feelings Alex seemed to have shared with him. Rising, he went to get another beer before he continued to read. 

After downing half of it, Jim realized he was well on his way to losing himself in that comfortable liquid haze. No... he'd worked too long and too hard over the past three months to do that. He poured the rest of it down the sink, and sat back down at the table, quickly finding where he had left off.

He read through the rest of it, Blair's theory that Guides were genetically connected to Sentinels making him stop and think, the other man's refusal to put any of the blame for what had happened between them on Jim made his heart ache. He could clearly read the fear his friend had felt about facing down Carl and Arguillo, about running blindly from the only life he knew into the uncertain future of a fugitive from the law. But nowhere in Blair's words did he find regret, or the wish that he could change things back to the way they had been. As scared as he must have been, he had still made the choice to go with her, to help her, to be what Jim had never really allowed him to be, a true Guide to his Sentinel.

Jim reread the letter several more times, then rising, he grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door and his keys from the basket. Leaving the loft behind, he went in search of Blair Sandburg.

* * *

Leaning over Drea, Blair gave her a last kiss, then grabbed his backpack off the floor. "See you in a couple hours," he told her.

"You sure you're up to doing this by yourself?" she asked, shifting Mica slightly in her arms.

"Yep. I was trained by the best. Besides, the exhibition ends tomorrow and the artifacts go back to their private collection. If I don't do this now, we'll lose our chance, and the Chinitez people will have to suffer through another year of drought." He brushed his fingers lightly over his daughter's cheek, then kissed the top of her head. 

Drea caught at his hand as he turned away. "You know I'll be right there with you, babe."

"I'm counting on it." He gave her a grin. "I love you."

"Love you, too. Hurry back." Kissing her one more time, Blair left the room.

* * *

Jim pulled the truck to a stop in the hospital parking lot in time to see Blair getting into a Jeep Cherokee. That was kind of strange. Visiting hours weren't over, and he knew the Guide normally stayed with his wife until the hospital staff kicked him out. He was putting the pickup into drive and dropping in behind the Jeep before he was consciously aware of what he was doing. 

Blair drove like a man with a purpose, either unaware he was being followed, or just not caring. "Of course," Jim thought, "he could just be going to pick up dinner." That theory was disproved when the Shaman turned onto Rainier University campus, driving to the basketball arena and parking in the lot. Glancing at the marquee, Jim noted RU was playing the Huskies that night. A good game, sure, but certainly not enough to drag Blair from his wife's side. Growing more suspicious by the moment, Jim parked a couple rows away from the SUV and waited a few minutes before following Blair to the arena gate. 

The detective watched as Sandburg bought a ticket and went inside, using the time the man spent in line to extend his senses and lock onto his heartbeat. Purchasing a ticket himself, Ellison followed him through the door and into the crowd. He tracked him through the hallways of the stadium, patting himself on the back for being able to focus on that one sound without zoning, or becoming confused by the herd of basketball fans. It was at just that moment Blair's heartbeat disappeared.

"Damn it!" Jim swore under his breath, then began using his vision to try and locate the errant anthropologist. When that failed, he switched to scent, but couldn't filter out the thousands of other smells. It took him nearly twenty minutes to realize Blair had deliberately given him the slip. Who better to know how to lose a sentinel than a guide? 

Frustrated, Jim headed back to the parking lot, only to find the Cherokee where Blair had parked it. Something was going on, but damned if he could figure it out at the moment.

* * *

Blair wound his way through the press of basketball fans, heading for the lower level of the arena and the entrance to the steam tunnels he knew was just off the electrical room. Sliding a hand into the front pocket of his backpack, he flipped on the white noise generator, and became instantly invisible to Sentinel ears. Reaching his destination, he checked to make sure no one was watching, then picked the lock on the door and slipped inside. Taking out a flashlight, he flipped it on, and began walking.

It took him nearly thirty minutes to traverse the maze of tunnels to the museum. He found his pack from the first theft attempt right where he'd left it. A quick check showed nothing missing, thank god. If the replica of the mask Drea had worked on for weeks had been gone, all their planning and sacrifice would have been for nothing. Swapping the pack with his tools for the one he'd brought, he headed for the tunnel entrance into the museum. 

He made short work of the lock, easily bypassing the alarm there, and entered the basement of the museum to find himself in an artifact storage area. Blair crossed the darkened area silently, coming to a stop at the floor to ceiling chain-link fence enclosing the space. A padlocked gate stood between him and the rest of the building. "Shit," he swore under his breath. Setting his backpack down, he took out his picks again, and maneuvered his fingers through the gaps in the wire to grasp the lock. Turning the glow from his flashlight on it, he groaned audibly. It was a top of the line BestLock, a model he had never successfully opened, no matter how many times Drea had coached him.

Breathe, man, breathe. Let everything else go. Closing his eyes, he worked on the lock using touch alone, but each time he felt like he almost had it, the pick slipped. Nervous sweat trickled down his back. Damn it, this was taking too much time. Ellison wasn't stupid; he was bound to figure out where Blair had gone before too long. Once again he tried to calm himself. This time when he took hold of the lock, he could feel Drea's hands over his, guiding him as she had when she'd first begun to teach him the skill. The pick caught, he twisted, and the lock fell open. "Thank you, honey," he whispered as he opened the gate and eased through, pulling the ski mask over his head.

Climbing the stairs to the main level of the museum, he slid out the door, keeping to the shadows as he hit the button on the small remote he pulled from his pocket. This was where it got tricky. Without Drea in the control center of their van to confirm it, he could only hope the program overriding the video surveillance system had kicked in. Just to be on the safe side, Blair worked his way to the exhibition room slowly, listening intently for the guards, careful to stay in the cameras' blind spots. 

Making sure the room was clear, the thief traversed the perimeter of the room, coming to a halt behind the display case holding the mask of the rain god. A few minutes later he had jumpered the alarm on the case, and was working on the simple lock. Once he had the case open, he quickly exchanged the copy for the real mask, tucked it in his pack, re-locked the case, and reset the alarm. 

He had just stepped into the hall when the overhead lights came on in the room he had just vacated. Voices drifted toward him as he squeezed himself into the space between a large case and the wall. "I'm telling you, Ellison, it's been dead here all evening. No funny stuff, not like the other night."

Blair felt a smile spreading across his face. He'd known not to underestimate the Sentinel. It would be interesting to see if Jim could pick up any clue he'd been there. The white noise generator was still running, so his heartbeat was masked, but the detective still had four other senses to go on. Too bad he couldn't afford to stick around to watch. 

Ducking into the shadows, he trotted quickly back to the basement, clicked off the camera override, and left the way he'd come in. Gathering up all his stuff from the tunnel, Blair made his way to the exit inside the student union building. Before leaving the passageway, he pulled the gold and turquoise mask from his bag, and wrapped it securely in bubblewrap, then packaged it in the prepaid and addressed FedEx box he'd brought in the backpack he'd carried from the hospital. The bag now being empty, he rolled it up and stuffed it in the one containing his tools, then exited the tunnels.

Strolling nonchalantly through the student union, he stopped outside the bookstore to drop his package in the FedEx bin, then left the building, heaving a long sigh of relief. He stopped on the stairs, breathing in the cool night air, and gazing up at the stars. "It's done, baby," he whispered to the sky, "now we can go home."

Tearing his eyes away from the heavens, he looked down to find himself in the blue-tinged darkness of the jungle. The underbrush rustled and parted, the spotted jaguar slinking toward him. She paused a few feet from him, morphing gracefully into his partner, his Sentinel. Drea stood before him, dressed in the leathers and paint of a warrior, a bow and quiver of arrows hanging from her back. Taking a step forward, she pulled him into an embrace, pressing her cheek to his. Finally she moved back, her eyes meeting his questioning gaze. 

"Drea, what's going on? Why am I here? Why now?" Blair's voice was frightened.

Cupping his face in her hands, she kissed him tenderly, whispering 'I love you's' against his lips. He returned her caress and her words. Pulling away, she said, "Blair, I will always be with you, looking out for you, protecting you, loving you." 

"I will always be here for you. Drea, I love you... " He watched her back away from him silently, then changing into the jaguar she disappeared into the night. He started to go after her, but the wolf was suddenly before him, a tiny spotted cub hanging by the scruff of her neck from his jaws. Before he could figure out the meaning of his vision, something vibrated at his waist.

Looking down at his pager, Blair was no longer in the jungle, but standing on the steps outside Rainier's student union. Shaking off the eerie, creepy feeling that had come over him, Blair pressed the button on top of the beeper, the number for the hospital coming up in the small screen.

And he knew. No... no... no... He dug frantically for his cell phone, punching in the number with shaking fingers, stuttering his name when the line was picked up. A sad, kind voice in his ear was saying something about an embolism and massive stroke, very quick, no pain, she didn't suffer, they were very sorry... With a scream, he threw the phone away from him, tears spilling down his face, violent sobs threatening to tear him apart.

He staggered the rest of the way down the stairs, nearly falling as he reached the street, his shattered mind not registering the blinding light or the squealing tires.

* * *

Ellison drove aimlessly through the campus, trying to figure out what was going on. He knew now that Blair had deliberately given him the slip at the arena, but he was damned if he could figure out why. At first he thought Blair was making another attempt at the museum, but his inspection had turned up nothing amiss. If Sandburg had been there, he had left everything untouched.

Jim had just turned down the street in front of the student union, when someone stumbled out of the shadows into the path of the truck. Standing on the brakes and yanking the wheel hard to the left, Jim still felt and heard the sickening thump as the bumper made contact. Slamming the Ford into park, he leapt from the cab, running around the front of the truck to find a black-clad man using the hood to slowly pull himself to his feet. The man's head lifted, the curtain of hair parting, and Jim found himself staring into the haunted eyes of Blair Sandburg. "Oh, god! Blair, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Are you okay?"

With an agonized cry, the Guide sagged forward into the Sentinel's arms, sobbing hysterically, calling out his wife's name. Jim went to the ground with him, kneeling in the brilliant light of the headlights, simultaneously trying to find out if Blair was okay, and decipher his disjointed words. Something had happened to Drea, he finally figured out, and the only thing he could think of that would have Blair this upset would be... "No, oh, no! She can't be! I just saw her this afternoon... oh, god... " Guilt slid through him like a knife.

Jim felt Blair's hands on either side of his face, lifting his head, forcing him to look at the Guide. He fought him, afraid to meet his eyes, afraid of what he would find there. But when blue eyes finally met blue, he saw only pain, and yes, anger, but not directed at him. It was anger at the cruel world that would bring Blair's love back from the brink of death three days ago, only to snatch her away from him the moment true happiness and freedom were within their grasp. 

Wrenching himself out his despair, Jim heard Blair saying something, repeating it over and over, as if the words could bring her back. "I forgive you, Jim, I forgive you... " Tears burned their way down his face, and he pulled the smaller man into his embrace, giving him something solid to hold on to, rocking him as he cried.

**Epilogue: Costa Rica, three weeks later**

Blair stood barefoot on the beach in front of his home, only peripherally aware of the water lapping at his feet. Mica was cradled against his chest with one hand, and he held a small enamel box in the other. As the setting sun began to turn the sky to flame, he flipped the lid of the box open awkwardly, scattering all that remained of his wife, his love, his Sentinel, upon the waves. The prayer for the dead fell from his tongue, sending her spirit to its final resting place.

The simple ceremony finished, the Guide hugged his daughter closer, watching the pink sun dip into the ocean and disappear, symbolically closing the door on that part of his life. Letting out a long sigh, he felt a strong hand come to rest on his shoulder, and the trace of a smile played across his lips.

"You gonna be okay?" 

Blair turned to face the speaker. "Yeah, Jim, with your help, I think we're gonna be fine." He gripped the other man's arm for a long moment, meeting and holding his steady gaze. "Just fine." Together they walked back up the beach to the house.

finis


End file.
